tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5856854899064514302024-02-19T05:39:43.299-05:00Q A U LOn Qawwali & Indian Classical Music: the fire that burns in the heart and soulbohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-13785038341562744142023-11-12T13:28:00.052-05:002023-12-21T12:45:21.643-05:00Munawar Ali Khansahib — Two Mehfils at Rafi Muneer’s<div><br /></div><b>In the Shadow of Greatness</b><div><br />Munawar Ali Khansahib, like a few other musicians, suffered from being sired by and nurtured in the shadow of a musical giant. The son of Khansahib Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, he was heir to one of the two prominent musical dynasties of the Patiala Gharana (1). I feel he was never given his due recognition as a great singer in his own right, invariably being compared to his father. Munawar Sahib’s voice was sonorous and with a gravitas that was the hallmark of the greatest Indian classical singers. In addition, his training in the traditions of his father gave him that perfect balance of technical perfection and musicality, which make his singing uniquely enjoyable. </div><br />
<div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>1982 Session </b></div>
<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="400" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/playlists/1197244963&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true" width="100%"></iframe><div style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Interstate, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Garuda, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 100; line-break: anywhere; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-break: normal;"><a href="https://soundcloud.com/qaul-blog" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="QAUL BLOG">QAUL BLOG</a> · <a href="https://soundcloud.com/qaul-blog/sets/khansahib-munawwar-ali-khan-march-82" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Khansahib Munawar Ali Khan (March 1982)">Khansahib Munawar Ali Khan (March 1982)</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>1987 Session </b></div>
<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="350" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/playlists/1197715930&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true" width="100%"></iframe><div style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Interstate, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Garuda, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 100; line-break: anywhere; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-break: normal;"><a href="https://soundcloud.com/qaul-blog" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="QAUL BLOG">QAUL BLOG</a> · <a href="https://soundcloud.com/qaul-blog/sets/khansahib-munawwar-ali-khan-1987" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Khansahib Munawar Ali Khan (1987)">Khansahib Munawar Ali Khan (1987)</a></div>
<div><b><br /></b></div>Khansahib blossomed in the intimacy of private performances rather than on the stage. Unfortunately, recordings of private sessions are few and far between. In the two sessions that are presented here, Khansahib is accompanied by his son, Raza Ali Khan. <br /><br />Khansahib travelled to Pakistan regularly. I suppose it was to maintain ties with Kasur, his ancestral home, and with Lahore where his father and family lived for some time in the 1950s, before Bade Ghulam Ali Khansahib decided to return from Pakistan to India. He sang at our house on one of his first return trips from India, in 1962 or so. It was my first experience of several magical musical concerts at home, immaculately organized by my parents. In track 4 of the 1982 session, Abba and he reminisce about that evening (among other things), in a dialogue seemingly resumed after twenty years. </div><div><br /></div><div>I last met Khansahib in Delhi in 1988, a year before his death. It was at a luncheon organized by a mutual friend and patron of music. The delightful lunch served by our hostess was augmented by conversation on music, mutual friends and the various performing styles of the rich traditions of Indian classical music. I rose from the gathering altogether more educated and with the realization that Khansahib was another fountainhead of musical knowledge, in addition to being a performer of stellar quality. His deep knowledge of history and traditions were no less than those of Ustaad Amir Ali Khansahib, whose writings on music are essential to the study of North Indian Classical music.</div><div><br /></div><b>The People — The Times</b><div><br /><div>Both the sessions were held at the house of the late Rafi Muneer, scion of one of the leading Karachi Industrial families. Rafi was a dear friend of my father and mine, being about equidistant in age from the two of us. A man of extraordinary charm, humour, elegance and generosity, Rafi was a prominent feature of the Karachi social scene of the ‘sixties and ‘seventies. His friendships spanned generations. His sense of humour was legendary — each of his friends had a few anecdotes of Rafi’s antics or his spontaneous quips that would inspire hilarity. Unfortunately, most of those stories are too bawdy for polite company ...</div><div><br /></div><div>My favourite recollection of Rafi goes back to one of the most significant political events in Pakistan’s history. In the winter of 1966, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto resigned as Foreign Minister from the cabinet of President Ayub Khan and rode a crest of political restlessness in a Pakistan that was tired of Ayub Khan’s unending rule. Bhutto’s charisma and resignation from his position as Foreign Minister ignited passions of students and youth who saw, in him, the salvation of Pakistan and all the ills that seemed to plague it. So Bhutto decided to take a train ride from ‘Pindi to Karachi, being stopped and mobbed by students and the dispossessed at each major station along the way. He was scheduled to arrive at the Karachi Cantonment station and a large mob of adoring students flooded the station, waiting for Bhutto’s train which was delayed by four of five hours. Being an idealistic youth, I skipped school to go to the station and be part of the mob. </div><div><br /></div><div>While standing in the swelling mob on the train platform, I felt someone prod me and point upstairs to the balcony of the station building. There was Rafi, beckoning me to come up. He was surrounded by a host of cronies, most of whom were to later become luminaries of Bhutto’s party. When I got upstairs, Rafi said “<i>Vahaan kya kar rahay ho, Pyaray? Idhar ao mairay paas!</i>” (What are you doing there, dear one? Come here to me.) And so, we had a bird’s eye view of Bhutto alighting from the train and being carried to a flatbed truck, which we rode along with Bhutto and his inner circle in a four-hour procession from the station to his house. Thus began the saga of Bhutto’s formation of a political party, the election of 1970, Pakistan’s break up, a military coup, and Bhutto’s eventual assassination at the hands of a military dictator.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>That day I learned that Rafi was a dear friend of Bhutto’s — a younger brother rather than a friend, actually. But Rafi did not take up political office in Bhutto’s party or in his government. He had neither aptitude nor the wiliness required to enter or survive politics — he stayed as a rather cheeky younger brother to Bhutto, throughout, though. After Bhutto’s assassination, Rafi lost his lustre and was never the same again, despite showing some of his boisterousness on occasions such as these mehfils.</div><div><br /></div><div>Such was Rafi’s loyalty and love for his friends that he visited Abba regularly during the last month of Abba's life, and he and Ardeshir Cowasjee drove all the 140 km from Karachi to Sujawal to bid our final farewells as we laid Abba to rest on his beloved farm.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The Music</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Rafi was really fond of Khansahib and the two had a close relationship — Rafi addressed him as "Munnoo Bhai" — so it was natural that there was a mehfil whenever “Munnoo Bhai” was in town. I was at the 1982 performance.</div><div><br /></div><div>Together the two performances present nine raagas that are amongst my favourites. The 1982 performance is somewhat lighter in style than the 1987 mehfil.</div><div><br /></div><div>The 1982 Jaijaiwanti is rhythmic, sensual, and measured in its tempo. The bandish is a composition of Bade Ghulam Ali Khansahib and the musical provenance is unmistakable. It is followed by a Kamod that is melodic, romantic, flirtatious. I find it simply delightful as Khansahib gets into full stride. The Chayya is a languid follow up to the Kamod. Its expression is slightly different to conventional expressions of this raaga. The performance concludes with a lovely medley of Thumrees that were a central part of the repertoire of the gharana.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>The 1987 mehfil is, as I mentioned, more deeply “classical”. The three raagas sung, Behag, Hameer and Chaya, are all lovely and it is hard to pick and choose favourites. Hameer is eternally close to my heart and I have yet to hear a rendition that I do not love. Khansahib’s rendition of this raaga has a special flavour that transports me. But the Chaya is extraordinary. The careful, unhurried, and complex expression takes one back to a remembrance of how Khyaal was sung by the Greatest of Them All.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Conversations</b></div><div><br /></div><div><div>In track 4 I never cease to smile at the conversation between Abba and Khansahib. In addition to talking about the past, the conversation turns to a discussion of Parween Sultana, an Assamese singer who claimed musical descent form Bade Ghulam Ali Khansahib. Abba, always a sucker for a pretty face, was bowled over by her looks and her undoubted musical prowess (which she overstretched at times). Parween Sultana was at her prime at the time. It is lovely to hear Abba’s adulatory comments contrasted to Khansahib’s more qualified and gently dismissive view.</div><div><br /></div><div>So there we have it, dear reader.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>A Hope</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I would conclude on a personal note. I am in the Last Act of my life and, frankly, I wished I did not have to witness the inhumanity, shrill anger and hatred that seems to surround us at present. Looking back at happier, gentler times and to the music of life seems to help me cope.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hope that this collection of music will sustain, in some small way, the same sense of hope, beauty and humanity in you who visit this page.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is the hope and humanity in each of us that will eventually overcome darkness.<b>— <i>Asif Mamu</i></b></div></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Playlists:</div><br />1982<div><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>Jai Jaiwanti</li><li>Kamod with Tarana</li><li>Chhaya</li><li>Conversation between Abba and Khansahib Munawar Ali Khan</li><li>Thumree Medley — <i>Yaad Piya Ki Aaye</i> & <i>Maar Dala Najariya Milaike</i></li></ol>1987</div><div><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>Behag</li><li>Hameer</li><li>Chaya Chayanut</li></ol><span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /></div><div>(1) The other great household of Patiala musicians was that of “General” Ali Bakhsh and Fateh Ali, who’s descendants Amanat Ali and Fateh Ali migrated to Pakistan and were stars that illuminated the Pakistani music scene in the ‘sixties and ‘seventies. A recording of one of their performances is presented in an earlier post of this blog (<a href="https://qaul.blogspot.com/2008/06/mehfil-with-amanat-ali-fateh-ali.html" target="_blank">link</a>)</div></div>bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-817042491606396282021-02-04T12:58:00.054-05:002024-01-05T21:25:07.115-05:00Kalam-e-Arifana - Munshi Raziuddin, Iftekhar Nizami, Naseerudin Sami, Farid Ayaz<p style="text-align: left;"><span face="-webkit-standard" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-size-adjust: auto;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Postscript (15 Feb 2021): After posting this set of recordings, I came across a cassette of selections of recordings of the Baṛi Party, from the same period, which contained complete recordings of two tracks from this session: 1) Kalaam of Ahmed-e Jam, “Manzil-e-Ishq Azmakaan-e-Digarast / Kushtagan-e-Khanjar-e-Tasleem ra” and 2) Lay Gayo Pi Piya Paro Humaro Mun. Accordingly, these tracks have replaced the ones posted originally.</span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">___________</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">This set of recordings would not have seen the light of day had it not been for one Event and one Person.</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> </span></p><div style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: left; text-size-adjust: auto;"><iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="450" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/playlists/1198910062&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true" width="100%"></iframe></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /><span lang="EN-GB"><div style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>The Event was the Covid lockdown, which threatened a miserable time through a dreary, cold, dark winter. To fend off the effects of isolation, sheer boredom and consequent ascent to cloud-cuckoo land, I decided to improve my cooking skills and complete a project to refurbish a pair of old loudspeakers, the latter being something that had been in the planning for the better part of twenty years.</span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtwqlDrmG6Tk457omdGd4OD3Xth0yArA8E9z_llZuo9jHom4Jc5GBoq0jA686TnR4ylQCJBcYWhbH9U1ru0OfnDSwpwdUMFsxG4oGKXrM2FF5PVoUQpP6XQMeI_a3ksJ4qmLOt27y3jSQ/s1600/WhatsApp+Image+2021-02-04+at+10.42.18.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1324" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtwqlDrmG6Tk457omdGd4OD3Xth0yArA8E9z_llZuo9jHom4Jc5GBoq0jA686TnR4ylQCJBcYWhbH9U1ru0OfnDSwpwdUMFsxG4oGKXrM2FF5PVoUQpP6XQMeI_a3ksJ4qmLOt27y3jSQ/s320/WhatsApp+Image+2021-02-04+at+10.42.18.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></span>Renovated these Tannoy speakers, manufactured in 1980, which were given new cabinets, three times the size of the originals, as well as new electronics. The result was the loveliest sounding speakers I have owned and the music they reproduce has helped tide over these days. I am, thoughtfully, providing a picture of the results of my efforts with the speakers <span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span lang="EN-GB">. </span><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: left; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">Inspired by the music wafting through the apartment, a rare stroke of genius hit me. Looking at a cupboard full of vinyl records and four drawers loaded with tape cassettes, all of which had been untouched for longer than I remember, I decided to pull out all the stuff, clean and sort the LPs and the cassettes and digitize the best of the music accumulated by my father and myself over the past sixty or seventy years. Musical immersion seemed the best antidote to COVID </span><span lang="EN-GB">quarantine and all else that poisoned the world in the winter of 2020.<br /></span><span lang="EN-GB"> <br /></span><span lang="EN-GB">As for the cooking, I don’t know whether it improved. You would have to ask my victims.</span><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: left; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: left; text-size-adjust: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3F1_dGmw8NxjNyXqPj3MMaDZa5uw5vmZcD3eV5zp-O2OWycqmg67V3qFeqQbo1fHm0mM62NCFlj2fHI64Ec0qnu9iOaVp806Q1WbxX9r6HUjVEEHmGU4a5N8XYHb1XeScQnGbrGMXLAE/s1600/WhatsApp+Image+2021-02-04+at+10.42.05+%25281%2529.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1270" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3F1_dGmw8NxjNyXqPj3MMaDZa5uw5vmZcD3eV5zp-O2OWycqmg67V3qFeqQbo1fHm0mM62NCFlj2fHI64Ec0qnu9iOaVp806Q1WbxX9r6HUjVEEHmGU4a5N8XYHb1XeScQnGbrGMXLAE/s320/WhatsApp+Image+2021-02-04+at+10.42.05+%25281%2529.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">The Person is my nephew Hasnain, the architect and custodian of this blog who choses to go by the appellation <i>Bohotkhoob</i>. In 2015 I had mentioned, to Hasnain, that I had found a Manzoor Qawwal tape from Abba’s drawer of cassettes about 15 years previously, and that it did not seem to be of much consequence. You can see from the sorry state of the cassettes's label in the photo above why I came to this conclusion. Believe me, neither Abba nor I usually treated our music this way, and I have no idea who labelled this cassette thus, although it was kept in its proper place in the order of things. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">Once Hasnain knew of the existence of the recording, with the patience and tenacity of a saint </span>— inherited, undoubtedly, from his mother (my cousin) — he kept reminding me to run it and see what we could make of it as a possible post on this blog. Preoccupations with one thing or another and sheer laziness caused me to avoid this. For five years. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">Once my music digitization project got underway I sent Hasnain copies of music from several old vinyl LPs. The man seemed unimpressed and, after receiving a few of these gifts, came back with the retort, “How about the digitization of the tape, which you have been postponing over the last five years, mate?” a thought expressed, of course, in a far more gentle and polite manner. The shame of it all galvanized me to action.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">Therein begins the story.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">With due remorse I recovered the tape and played it back a bit at a time, lest its age cause it to fall apart altogether. Fortunately, it withstood the rigours of being played through in entirety. As I worked my way in ironing out the few wrinkles in the recording, it dawned upon me that I had discovered a musical gem. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">The voices I heard were of Munshi Raziuddin (and not Ustaad Manzur), at the very peak of his vocal prowess, and his (then) youthful son-in-law and his son, Naseeruddin Saami and Fareed Ayyaz, both vibrant accompanists to Razi Mian. There was a fourth voice that entered intermittently and it sounded distinctly like that of Ustaad Iftikhar Nizami, a member of the original Baṛi Party ( بڑی پاڑٹی ) (the Senior Party) of Manzur Qawwal, that powerhouse of classical Pakistani Qawwali, who we have published as one of the <a href="http://qaul.blogspot.com/2008/05/1969-mehfil-qawwals-raziuddin-niazi.html" target="_blank">very earliest of the postings on this blog</a>. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">Ustaad Iftikhar Nizami was considered the living library of the enormous poetic repertory of the Baṛi Party and he was responsible for poetic continuity/prompter as well as one of the principles in the choral ensemble. According to my information, he passed away in 1972. If my reckoning is correct, the presence of Ustaad Iftikhar dates this recording to between 1969 and early 1972.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">The very fact that the tape was labelled as “Manzoor Qawwal” offered another hint as to its origins. Undoubtedly, it was Mr. Assad Ali (host of the 1978 mehfil posted <a href="http://qaul.blogspot.com/2018/04/munshi-raziuddin-naseeruddin-saami.html" target="_blank">here</a>) who recorded the cassette and gifted it to Abba. In the Assad Ali household, despite their sustained patronage, Munshi Raziuddin and his group are referred to by the original Baṛi Party name of Manzoor Qawwal, following the adage, “A Rose by Any Other Name…”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">A third clue was the nature of the performance itself. Mr. Assad Ali was a connoisseur of Sufi Poetry, particularly that of Hazrat Ameer Khusro. Hence (in deference to the taste of the audience) the entire Kalaam is recited, rather than chosen couplets, lending an authenticity to each of the pieces presented here. The Qawwals of today tend to flit from one poet or couplet </span>to another, creating a medley of poetry, which is very clever, but leaves something to be desired in terms of fully enjoying the expression and depth of the original text. The current trend is particularly sad in this case as Munshi Raziuddin possessed a treasure trove of Ameer Khusro’s poetry as well as that of innumerable Sufi poets and sages. He could recite the Persian poetry of Khusro and Rumi by the yard, if inspired. It is sad to see that this discipline is not followed by his successors, despite their undoubted brilliance and talent.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">The four pieces presented on this posting may well have been extracted as a selection of favourites from a longer mehfil. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">So, in summary, this recording is from the collection of Mr. Assad Ali. It dates to between 1970 and 1972, it presents four beautiful recitations and was given by Mr. Assad Ali to my father.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">The individual pieces are full of character, not just for the poetry recited but for the distinct emotionality in the recitation of each piece. Every great singer, no matter from where, has the quality of voice, the control over expression and the musical imagination to create a distinct emotional resonance. In those days, Munshi Raziuddin was a master of creating and conveying musical emotion, and hopefully the listener would be able to appreciate the unique mood of each piece. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">The first piece, a <b>Manqabat</b> devoted to Hazrat Khwaja Ghareeb Nawaz (the Sufi Saint Hazrat Khwaja Mu’eenuddin Chishti), is a supreme example of traditional Khanqahi Qawwali (Qawwali recited at the saint’s mausoleum) conveying the plea of a mendicant beseeching the great saint for his blessing, while celebrating his spiritual lineage from The Prophet. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">The second, starts from a tentative digression into <b>Raaga Puriya</b> but settles into a recitation of the wistful phrase <b>Lay Gayo Piya Pyaro Hamaro Mun</b> (loosely translated My beloved you have taken the love possessed by my soul) which presents a beautiful exposition of Raaga Bhairavi.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><div dir="ltr" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-size-adjust: auto;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-GB">The third is a personal favourite, a familiar Persian composition of Hazrat Ameer Khusro, <b>Har Shab Manam Futada</b>. The intensity of the poetry and majesty of Raaga Darbari serve to transport this listener to another world.</span></p><i></i><blockquote><i>Har shab manam futada, Ba girde sarai e tou<br />Har roz ah o nala kunam az barai e tou</i><br /><br />Every night have I fallen, around the circle of Thy tavern<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br />every day, do I wail and cry, in yearning of Thee<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br /><i>Jana ba iin shakista dil-bewafa ma shou<br />Umre guzasht ta shuda am aashina e tou</i><br /><br />O Love, turn not thy gaze from this broken hearted one<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br />for a lifetime has been spent, in getting to know Thee<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br /><i>Rozay ke zarra zarra shavad, ustakhan-e-man<br />Ba shad hanoz dar dil-e-veesham hava e tou</i><br /><br />When my bones are nothing but shattered bits<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br />may my heart carry on its quest of Thee<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br /><i>Bar hal-e-zar-e-man nazar-e-kun ze raahay lutf<br />Tu Badshah-e-husni o Khusrau gada e tou<br /></i><br />Let thy Grace fall on my blighted self<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br />Thou art the Lord of Grace, and Khosro but a beggar of Thee<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br />~ Amir Khusrau<br /><br />(Farsi to English translation by Farrokh Namazi. Text and translation taken from the <a href="http://qawwal.blogspot.com/2012/04/har-shab-manam-futada-amir-khusrau.html" target="_blank">blog</a> of my dear friend, Arif Ali Khan.)</blockquote></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></p><div dir="ltr" style="text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">The last piece, <b>Manzil-e Ishq az Makan-e Deegar-ast </b>(<b>Kushtagaan-e Khangar-e Tasleem Ra)</b>, is a poem by Ahmed-e Jam, a Persian mystic:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;">منزلِ عشق از مکانے دیگرست </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;">مرد معنی را نشانے دیگرست</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;">...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;">کشتگانِ خنجرِ تسلیم را </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;">ہر زماں از غیب جانے دیگرست </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;">...</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">As recorded in Regula Burckhardt Qureshi’s “Sufi Music”:</span></p><p></p><p class="p1" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"></p><blockquote><p class="p1" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">The following famous couplet by the Persian mystic Ahmad Jam inspired the saint to ecstasy:</p><div class="separator" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p2" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">Khushtagan-e-khanjar-e-taslim ra</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">Har zaman az ghaib jan-e-digar ast</p><p class="p2" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">For the martyrs of the dagger of submission</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">The Unseen brings a new life every moment</p><p class="p2" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">As the Qawwals repeated every first line, the saint fell down dead, but on every second line, he rose to life again.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This alternation continued for many hours to several days, but the singing could not stop, until finally the Sufis present had the performers end on the first line to allow the saint to rest in final union with his Beloved.</p><p class="p2" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">— Regula Burckhardt Qureshi. <i>Sufi Music of India and Pakistan: Sound, Context and Meaning in Qawwali.</i> United Kingdom, Cambridge University Press, 1986.</p></div></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">The anecdote refers to the departure, from his temporal abode, of the Sufi Saint, Hazrat Qutubuddin Bakhtiyar Kaki (1173-1235), who was from the Chishtia <i>Silsila</i>, the successor to Khawaja Moinuddin Chishti, and who was succeeded by Hazrat Fareedudin Ganj i Shakar. The mystic’s elevation to the state of <i>haal</i> or <i>wajd</i> (state of ecstasy) dissolves the boundaries between temporal and spiritual existence and allow the Saint to move between the two planes, until the end of the recitation enable the passage of his soul to eternity and unity with his beloved, the Creator.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">This anecdote represents essential Sufi ethos, the attainment of seamless transition between the perceivable, tangible world and the world of the soul and spirit—the movement between the <i>Hazir</i> (outer, evident, perceivable) and <i>Batin</i> (inner, deeper, concealed) states of being. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">Munshi Raziuddin would, at times, tell me anecdotes of his own mystical experiences. Most of them defied credibility and my queries as to the truth of the story would be met with a characteristic half smile and an affectionate twinkle of the eye. There was no attempt to convince me, just a recollection of the event.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">One such anecdote comes to mind, from Munshi Raziuddin’s youth in Hyderabad Deccan. From a very early age his thirst for knowledge drew him to the public library of the Nizam of Hyderabad, one of the largest and most beautiful libraries in India. This library had an extensive reference section where readers could reserve a manuscript and peruse it in the reading rooms. Naturally, these could not be taken from the reference library premises. Once, Razi Mian saw a venerable old gentleman reading a weighty manuscript in an indecipherable script. He was wonderstruck as he saw this person week after week, absorbed in the strange book. </span><span lang="EN-GB">One day, out of a combination of mischievousness and curiosity, he managed to reserve the manuscript for the following week. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">On the allocated day, he took delivery of the manuscript, settled in at the reading room and proceeded to leaf through it and try to make sense of the script. </span>The mischievousness melted as the old gentleman eventually came around and found this youth pouring over what was HIS book of interest. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">“<i>Kuchch samajh main aa raha hai kay kya parh rahay ho? (Are you able to understand what you are reading?)</i>”, he asked with a rather irritated and formidable imperiousness. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">Razi Mian, at a loss for words, ceded the manuscript to the gentleman, with the confession that he did not understand a thing. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><i>“</i></span><i>Tau phir apna or maira waqt kyun zaya kar rahay ho? (Then why are you wasting your time and mine?)”</i> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">However, neither the admonition nor the personality could dull Razi Mian’s curiosity, and he kept eyeing the gentleman absorbed in his reading. Eventually (perhaps out of pity) the gentleman took Razi Mian aside and told him that the manuscript was the Torah, a source of jurisprudence for the Abrahamic faiths, and that the script was classical Hebrew. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">The gentleman and Razi Mian struck up an acquaintance, and in response to Razi Mian’s repeated requests, he agreed to instruct Razi Mian on the Hebraic script as well as the mysteries of the manuscript. He told Razi Mian to meet him in the city, at an appointed location, day and time. To Razi Mian’s wonder, the gentleman came to their instructional session with the very same copy of the Torah which, as I earlier mentioned, was not supposed to be removed from the library’s reference section. He was too awestruck by the elder’s presence to inquire as to how he managed to smuggle the book from the library. As things evolved, these instructional sessions became weekly events, at the appointed place, day and time. The reference manuscript and a Hebrew/Arabic alphabet primer were the two books used. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB">And so it came to pass that Razi Mian gained a working knowledge of the Hebrew alphabet and of the contents of the Torah. Eventually after a few months of this instruction it seems that the old sage did not arrive for his appointment and there was no sign of him. After a couple of such broken appointments and out of concern for the gentleman’s welfare, Razi Mian went to the </span></span>library with the hope of tracking him down. He described the person and the entire proceeding to the head librarian.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">He was informed that the personality he described was a well-known mystic, and that the gentleman had frequented the library for years. However, the sage had passed away a decade ago. Furthermore, Razi Mian was assured that the manuscript had not left its locked cabinet ever since he had booked it several months previously…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">Now you can come up with several reasonable questions/speculation etc. as to the credibility of this story and several others. My point in relating this is not to convince anyone about anything. It is to draw attention to the intertwining of the mystical dimension that lends so much flavour to the life and personality of the person of whom we speak. To me it was the telling of the story, the vividness of the imagery and the magic associated with it, that created an aura that makes his art more than the sensory musical experience.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">In any case, myths, legends, speculation on the supernatural create a sense of another level of being going beyond austere logic. Much as myths legends and beliefs have been the cause for conflict and bloodshed, they have also embellished life. As, Joseph Campbell, one of the greatest students of Myths observed:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Mythology is not a lie, mythology is poetry, it is metaphorical. It has been well said that mythology is the penultimate truth <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">— </span>penultimate because the ultimate cannot be put into words. It is beyond words. Beyond images, beyond that bounding rim of the Buddhist Wheel of Becoming. Mythology pitches the mind beyond that rim, to what can be known but not told.” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">Whatever your thoughts on the matter, Dear Reader, I do hope that you enjoy this musical discovery with or without its mythical colouration. —<b><i>Asif Mamu</i></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB">Playlist:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p>1. Manqabat Hazrat Khwaja Ghareeb Nawaz - Ya Waqif-e-Raaz Khafi-o-Jali (یا واقف راز خفی و جلی ، سلطان الہند غریب نوازؒ) — Kalam Dagh Dehlvi (<a href="https://sufinama.org/manqabat/dagh-dehlvi-manqabat-3?lang=ur" target="_blank">kalam</a>)<br />2. Mai Ree (Raag Puriya)</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-size-adjust: auto;">3 Le Gayo Piya Pyaro Hamaro Mun (Raag Bhairavi) - لے گیو پیا پیارو ہمارو من<br />4. Har Shab Manam Futada (ہر شب منم فتادہ بہ گرد سرای تو) — Kalam-e-Khusrau<br />5. Kushtagaan-e-Khanjar-e-Tasleem Ra ( کشتگانِ خنجرِ تسلیم را ) — Kalam Ahmed-e Jam</div>bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-15726775446100428682018-04-02T21:11:00.000-04:002019-08-15T20:27:24.263-04:00Munshi Raziuddin, Naseeruddin Saami, Fareed Ayaz & Party - 1978<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This month marks ten years since this Blog was launched. This time a decade ago we felt that, at best, a couple of hundred people might be interested in the Blog and its music. It is somewhat overwhelming to see that the Blog has enjoyed several thousand hits since it was launched, with visitors from about everywhere in the world! Thank you all for stopping by and sharing our pleasure in the music that has been posted.<br />
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It seems apt to commemorate the decennial with a concert recorded in 1978, forty years ago. This session was held at the Karachi home of Mr. Assad Ali, scion of the Wazir Ali family of Lahore. The late Mr. Assad Ali was prominent among the circle of patrons of the Manzoor Qawwal party and later of Munshi Raziuddin.<br />
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<b>Pakistani art in the turbulent decade</b><br />
<b><br /></b>I suppose the 1970s were about the most turbulent and pivotal decade in Pakistan’s history. In a space of ten years, the country experienced: its first ever democratic election; a conflict that broke it in half; a dramatic transition from military rule to its first democratically elected government; popular disaffection with that government; political chaos and the re-establishment of military rule; the execution of Pakistan’s first democratically elected prime minister; the beginnings of a Soviet incursion into Afghanistan and its impact on Pakistan; and the inauguration and imposition of a military dictator’s vision of Islam—a grim, and punitive affair which served little else but provide a cover for his cynical duplicity and the ruthless assertion of a vice like grip over the society and politics of the country. And this unrelenting onslaught of tumultuous events occurred after a decade of the 60’s, with its apparent social stability and economic progress that seemed to be taken for granted at the time. </div>
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It is a tribute to the spirit and resilience of Pakistanis that the turbulent ’70s were, paradoxically, the most fertile of times for the arts and cultural development. The fine arts saw a crop of young artists break grounds hitherto unknown in the Pakistan fine arts scene. The coming into stride of Pakistan Television (PTV) offered a platform for some brilliant television drama and satire, with several talented theater/TV actors, directors and writers assuming national prominence. State patronage of folk arts allowed for the popularization of some wonderful folk artists and folk music. And the poetry…aaaah the poetry! Some of the finest political poetry was written at the time, inflaming the imagination. Associated with the poetry was the coming of age of Pakistani ghazal performances. The great ghazal singers of the post-independence era, as well as several brilliant new talents, found a public platform in television and the live performance of ghazals were now a matter of course as these talents became household presences. In short, the cultural trajectory of current day Pakistan can trace its beginnings to this decade. </div>
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The strife, chaos and pain of the 70’s seemed to inspire great art, I suppose, as an outlet for collective <i>angst</i>. When thinking of the time, I am reminded of Graham Greene’s immortal lines, brilliantly delivered by Orson Wells in “The Third Man”:<br />
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You know what the fellow said—in Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, they had five hundred years of democracy and peace – and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.</blockquote>
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[With all due apologies to my Swiss friends…]</div>
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<b>Qawwali on the world stage</b></div>
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Qawwali was no exception to the creative effervescence of the time. Qawwali emerged from the khankah, dargah, and the drawing room to the public platform, in the form of televised performances and then, consequently, in live stage events. Perhaps the spearheads of this evolution were the Sabri Brothers—Ghulam Fareed and Maqbool Ahmad Sabri—who gave a powerful rhythmic flair and drama to their performances that captivated the popular mind in Pakistan. Not only that, but they established new international horizons for Qawwali by holding packed performances in Carnegie Hall in 1975 and later in 1978. I am told that these performances inspired the audiences into head-twirling ecstasy. Whether or not their audiences were in a collective state of <i>vajd</i> (mystical ecstasy), their charismatic performances served to place Qawwali on the international musical scene. Such was their unprecedented financial success that they once hired a school friend of mine, a UK-trained Chartered Accountant, to handle their business affairs and investments, putting their financial house in order!<br />
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The success of the Sabris paved the way for a phenomenon named Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Through the ’70s, Nusrat gained fame on the Pakistani Qawwali scene as the inheritor of the mantle of leader of the Fateh Ali-Mubarak Ali group that hailed from the Punjab. He burst upon the World Music Scene (some regard him as being one of those that were instrumental in creating the genre) with his performance at the WOMAD festival in 1985. In the 12 years between the WOMAD festival and his untimely death in 1997, Nusrat dominated the Qawwali scene in Pakistan and internationally, becoming an icon of World Music and a folk hero in Pakistan.</div>
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Everyone seems to have a favourite recollection of Nusrat’s music and performances. Mine goes back to the late ’80s. Nusrat was invited for the inaugural concert for an international music festival in Vienna. At the time Vienna was a bit of a backwater for international music due to its conservative musical audiences. Not having heard Nusrat, I went to the concert, from sheer curiosity. I was amazed to find that the concert hall was packed—there was not even standing room left. Of all the performances in the one-week festival, only one had an additional unscheduled performance laid out due to huge demand, and that was Nusrat’s! Such was his fame and following by the end of his stellar career that on his passage, I was told by a friend, a New York FM radio station paid him homage by playing his music nonstop for 24 hours… </div>
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All these musical evolutions had bypassed Munshi Raziuddin. Not willing to compromise with popular trend (dare I say modernity?), he spent the ’70s and ’80s in the shadows with a large family to support but with a meager income provided by a waning body of traditional patrons and the traditional recitals at dargahs. On seeing his penurious state, one of his patrons, a corporate type, provided a contract for having him and Ustaad Manzoor Niazi sing an advertising jingle, composed as a Qawwali, for a TV commercial. Needless to say, the result was awful and (mercifully) that avenue closed with that one effort!</div>
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Despite poverty knocking at his doorstep in those economically chaotic times, there was a grace and dignity in Razi Mian’s receiving the visitor, and it was evident that his spirit was not dampened, nor was he deterred in his pursuit and spreading of knowledge. This composure, in addition to the learning and love he showered on me, could only be reciprocated by my love and admiration for him.</div>
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<b>The music in this session</b></div>
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Back to the session presented here. As earlier mentioned it was held at the Karachi home of an old patron. It is rather unique, since it is one of the few recordings available where Munshi Raziuddin leads and his nephew and son-in-law Naseeruddin Sami, and his elder son Fareed Ayyaz, accompany him. Their relative youth and freshness of the accompanists’ voices are combined with a virtuosity that Munshi Raziuddin’s tutelage imparted upon them. Naseer would have been in his early 30s at the time, and Ayyaz in his mid 20s.<br />
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My father had retired from Government service a few years prior to the concert and the turbulence associated with a change in lifestyle was inevitable. With the result that it had been a few years since he had participated in a Qawwali mehfil. When Razi Mian saw my father enter the room there was a glow and smile of loving welcome. He whispered something to his accompanists. We later found out that he instructed them to change the start from the usual Qaul/Manqabat that initiates mehfils. So they started with this lovely rendition of Alhaiya Bilawal and the bandish <b>Aay Dayya, Kahan Gaey Veh Log?</b> Abba had not heard the bandish for quite some time, and on seeing that it was obviously directed at him, he was reduced to tears at the wonderful sentiment conveyed … neither singers nor audience were left dry eyed, as the performance proceeded, I am told. This raga and this bandish has become a regular feature of our sessions with Fareed Ayyaz, a refrain commemorating our meetings, which are few and far between these days. On each occasion the plaintive emotion is accentuated as one tries to hold on to the memory of loved departed ones… Of all the numerous renditions, I love this rendition best. It has a classical simplicity and sobriety to it, accentuating the mood.</div>
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Both the raga Alhaiya Bilawal and this bandish inspire a powerful nostalgic lump-in-the-throat feeling as conventionally recited in the Qawwali and Khyaal form. The raga, however, is not forever condemned to be a tear jerker… listen to this <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77vtFARtAso">early recording by Ustaad Vilayat Khansahib</a>. Here, a minor elevation of scale, an increase in tempo and the genius of Vilayat Khan transform the raga into a sweet lilting melody, a light-hearted contrast to what is done by convention!</div>
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Track 2 <b>Namee Danam</b> is particularly beautiful—a languid, deliberate expose of Hazrat Ameer’s classic composition. This kalaam lends itself to dramatization, given its powerful imagery. Here, instead, the kalaam is recited without histrionics being brought into it, and the result is hypnotic!</div>
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Track 4 <b>Sajda Kar Ke Qadam-e-Yaar Pe Qurban Hona</b> is a kalaam attributed variously to Wamiq Jaunpuri or to Syed Ayaz Waris Shah Warsi, the former being a 20th century laic poet, the latter a 20th century Sufi. Whatever the authorship, the kalaam is fairly popular, being recited at various mehfil-i-samaa. I find most performances to be rather weak. Not so here, the chemistry of this performance elevates it to a majesty that I have not encountered since.</div>
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Similarly, <b>Khwaja Piya Piya</b> usually reduces itself to Dhamaal with heavy emphasis on rhythm and overpowering noise. This rendition, recited as Track 5, is unique. In the words of my nephew and collaborator, Hasnain, “… have to say this is a very special rendition...no hollering, pure rus and kalam, smooth, and some of the verses are rarely used underscoring its freshness ... ”</div>
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The penultimate track, <b>Aaja Moray Nainon Mein Saajna</b>, is a wonderful plaintive composition continuing the tone of yearning expressed in the opening piece.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">من بادامانِ معین الدین حسن دستِ زدم</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">ہادیِ من ، خضرِ من ، مھدیِ من ، مولائے من</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> اے شہنشاہِ ولایت خواجہ ہند الولی</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">یک نگاہ گاہے گاہے از طفیلِ پنجتن</span></div>
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The overall tenor of this Mehfil is of old style classicism, the kalaam is <i>arifana</i> (Sufiyana / Devotional). The tempo of each piece is moderate, measured and constant, allowing the poetry and the recitation to be the focus of attention. The raga of each piece is maintained throughout and the only embellishments are the alaaps/taans of the singers, which while powerful, do not detract from the main flow of the kalaam and recitation, instead they deviate as a rivulet does from the mainstream, only to rejoin it after following its course. </div>
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Interestingly, when I first heard this recording, some 40 years ago, I felt it to be austere, if not dull. The years of revisiting this have enhanced the appreciation of its beauty. It has grown on me due precisely to its moderation, the discipline exercised in the recitation and the softness of its overall effect.</div>
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The uniqueness of the performance is due, in no small measure, to the thought that Munshi Raziuddin injected into his expose and the care and discipline exercised over his disciples/accompanists. It is a testimony of the wealth of knowledge that he conveyed, as well as their hard efforts, that the two accompanists of this session have been treated kindly by the passage of time. Ustaad Naseeruddin Sami is today one of Pakistan’s most respected Khyaaal singers, and Ustaad Fareed Ayaz, together with his brother Abu Mohammad, lead Pakistan’s leading living Qawwali group.</div>
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May Razi Mian’s blessings protect them and may they long flourish in the pursuit of the beauty of their art. —<b><i>Asif Mamu</i></b><br />
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Playlist:<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>Ay Daiya Kahan Gaey Veh Log (اے دایَہ کہاں گائے وے لوگ)</li>
<li>Lagi Ri Mein Tau Charan Teharay (لاگی ری میں تو چرن تہارے)</li>
<li>Nami Danam Che Manzil Bood ( نمی دانم چہ منزل بود)</li>
<li>Ta Soorat-e-Paiwand Jahan Bood Ali Bood (تا صورت پیوند جهان بود علی بود)</li>
<li>Sajda Kar Ke Qadam-e-Yaar Pe Qurban Hona (سجده کرکے قدمِ یار پہ قرباں)</li>
<li>Khwaja Piya Piya / Chundri botay daar (خواجہ پیا پیا — چندری بوٹے دار)</li>
<li>Baro Ghee Ke Diyena (بارو گہی کے دیے نا)</li>
<li>Aaja Moray Nainon Mein Saajna (آج مورے نینوں میں ساجن)</li>
<li>Khwaja Aan Pari Darbaar (خواجہ آن پڑی دربار)</li>
</ol>
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bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-70541643923536018632017-07-10T16:45:00.000-04:002019-01-05T10:23:25.290-05:00Sindh Club Session<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Hazrat kay samnay
pesh karthay huay hum bohoth darthay hain …” </i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">[We feel terribly afraid to sing
before the revered one].</i><br />
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This was Fareed’s first reaction I asked him to sing at
Abba’s chambers at the Sind club for this performance. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This concert was held in February 2005, to commemorate
Abba’s 90<sup>th</sup> birthday. It was held one month after the Abba’s actual birthday. In January of that year, a birthday bash was held at the Club, organized by his
many friends and admirers. I could not make it to Karachi for the party, since
the obligations of profession and work intervened, keeping me in Vienna or
maybe on the road to another country. So I came to Karachi as soon as I could
and this concert was organized by way of atonement….<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was somewhat surprised at Fareed’s remark. Truly, Abba had
a keen ear and knowledge of music, surpassed by few. However he was the
kindest, most non-judgmental of people and invariably sought the good in others
rather than dwell upon their weaknesses. He dealt with the meek and the mighty
with equivalent humility, gentleness and attentiveness. This characteristic was
reflected in his comport as musical audience.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3D8YsZzDmAscIreC0KbWgIYv9o5MJxEgWAToxLF3vqWYkKCwk2oRWRVWJiM3PUqseolndvMUazMwrnoiekcqEw2qy6gR6-jwG0pTqyKr-y6GQDWUwnVOEf51i2_NeP5nny0-9wkKDMl8/s1600/Two+beloved+friends+in+a+state+of+hypnosis.+The+Late+Mehdi+Hasnain+Sahib+and+the+Late+Bilal+Dallenbach.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1522" data-original-width="1600" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3D8YsZzDmAscIreC0KbWgIYv9o5MJxEgWAToxLF3vqWYkKCwk2oRWRVWJiM3PUqseolndvMUazMwrnoiekcqEw2qy6gR6-jwG0pTqyKr-y6GQDWUwnVOEf51i2_NeP5nny0-9wkKDMl8/s200/Two+beloved+friends+in+a+state+of+hypnosis.+The+Late+Mehdi+Hasnain+Sahib+and+the+Late+Bilal+Dallenbach.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-normal;"><i>Two beloved friends in a state of hypnosis. The Late Mehdi Hasnain Sahib and the Late Bilal Dallenbach</i></span></div>
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This was the first session we held after Munshi Raziuddin’s
passage in 2003. His absence created a large void, and I suppose Fareed and Abu
Mohammad felt some apprehension at attempting to satisfy Abba’s discerning taste
without their father’s guidance and stewardship of the performance, as had been
the case thus far.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The setting was simple, informal and intimate with a few
close friends, family, and the qawwals in Abba’s room. Fareed and Abu Mohammad
presented the recital with virtuosity that reflected firm resolve to preserve
and build upon the rich legacy of knowledge and training bequeathed to them by
their father. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="envelope return"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="footnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="line number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="page number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of authorities"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="macro"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="toa heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I really do not know how to describe the
performance … the atmosphere was marked by a creative tension that is palpable
throughout the performance. The tension is borne from the discipline exercised to
stay in the classical form, at least for the first hour or so of the
performance. Despite the studied expose of </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">the raga, the first three pieces are neither conventional
Khyaal nor are they rendered as “conventional” Qawwali. They have not sung some
of the pieces like this (to my awareness) before or since …</span><br />
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The tenor of the music is marked by <i>Darbari, </i>the Raaga with which Fareed opens the recital, and they go
on to sing several variations and bandishes of <i>Malkauns</i> for the first part. Some of these pieces have attained
considerable popularity since they have sung them in various episodes of the Pakistani
Coke Studio series of musical programmes that were brilliantly developed and
orchestrated by Rohail Hayat.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_njFmttXxRzpyZB1mGOOI16Kwh6-kYYFooOESzBlspTfJw_MjYc4ECGfDVD6o-7D2qcMXSKIycbkkxTwnteAYFo3-9jdDwHl9-OqStiAy4RjhfOAsR9nFM5AECUFlGDRhYLbkAzqzYjM/s1600/AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1287" data-original-width="1600" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_njFmttXxRzpyZB1mGOOI16Kwh6-kYYFooOESzBlspTfJw_MjYc4ECGfDVD6o-7D2qcMXSKIycbkkxTwnteAYFo3-9jdDwHl9-OqStiAy4RjhfOAsR9nFM5AECUFlGDRhYLbkAzqzYjM/s320/AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Returning to the performance, Fareed’s apprehensions were
quite dispelled. Abba and the rest of the audience were mesmerized by the shear
uniqueness and the mastery of the classical rendition by Abu Mohammad and him. The singers were matched by the audience in the concentration in exploring and
grasping the soul of the music<o:p></o:p></div>
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While the listener is familiar with Fareed and Abu
Mohammad’s classical qawwali, this session, veering towards <i>Khyaal</i>, represents their musical
foundation. Looking back at this session, I am so impressed by Fareed’s range, Abu
Mohammad’s sweetness of voice and of the alto voices of the younger ones in the
ensemble. The careful, detailed expose and vocalization of the earlier pieces are
a joy. —<b><i>Asif Mamu</i></b></div>
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2005 Playlist:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">1.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">Bandish in Darbari<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">2.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">Taraana Biya Biya<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">3.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">Bandish in Malkauns<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">4.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">Manqabat: Mun Kunto Malua<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">5.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-GB">Raag Maru Bihag / </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Ay Dil Bageer e Daaman e Sultan e Auliya / Tarana</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">6.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">Ghazal in Anandi: Ay Sarv e Nazaneen e Mun<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">7.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB">Chaap Tilak / Padaro Maro / Paiyan Paroon Gi / Aao Piya </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Darron </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Main Tope</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">8.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">Baro Ghee Kay Diye Na / Haryala Bana / Phool Rahi Sarson</span></div>
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bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-85127216063992074312016-07-02T14:27:00.000-04:002016-07-07T23:04:56.781-04:00Munshi Raziuddin — Sanjan Nagar Institute, 1997<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In a <a href="http://qaul.blogspot.com/2015/08/farid-ayaz-abu-muhammad-sanjan-nagar.html">previous post</a> we had shared a recording of Farid Ayaz and troupe made in 2007 at the Sanjan Nagar Institute, Lahore. The session was appreciated by many visitors of this blog. We were lucky to have obtained a copy thanks to the generosity of the institute's founder Mr. Raza Kazim. This gentleman is a polymath and one can get a sense of his multi-dimensional tastes and achievements from an interview he recently gave to an online journal. The interview (which is accompanied with a lovely introduction) is titled <i>Meet the Lahore lawyer, philosopher and activist who also invented a musical instrument</i>. It can be found <a href="http://scroll.in/article/809643/interview-meet-the-lahore-lawyer-philosopher-and-activist-whos-also-invented-a-musical-instrument">here</a>.<br />
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Below is the second session Mr. Kazim shared with me. This is another beautifully recorded and sung session. Our blog's leading light Asif Mamu assessed it succinctly: This is a fabulous recording, capturing nuance and the timbre of the voices. Munshi Razi's diction was special and comes out wonderfully. One of the lovely aspects is that the harmoniums are really down-tuned to the point of non-existence and they are using a real tanpura. Munshi Razi keeps the singers in check and moderated. This is the way that proper Qaul should be recited. There is no need to make it a hollering competition. The music, kalaam, and tone of voice take it to another level of enjoyment.
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<iframe frameborder="no" height="800" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/playlists/138673814&color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-11389440269443427352015-12-03T22:59:00.001-05:002015-12-03T23:10:30.974-05:00Fareed Ayaz & Abu Mohammad — Reunion of Aulad-i-Ghulam Imam, 25 July 2015<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div>
<b>The Occasion</b></div>
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</div>
<div>
<br />
This mehfil was the highlight of a family reunion in Karachi, involving some of our clan’s siblings, cousins and their children.<br />
<br />
It has been some 40 years since us cousins were last under the same roof. The occasion was the brainchild of my youngest <i>mammoozad</i> (progeny of my maternal uncle) cousin, “Baby”, Riffat Ali Shah who has, over the years, metamorphosed from an adorable porcelain doll into a wizened and beautiful grandmother.</div>
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In addition to the cousins that live in Karachi, some of us traveled to Karachi from Berlin, Dubai, Islamabad, Lahore, Toronto, Washington D.C. and Vienna.<br />
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My <i>Khala’s </i>(maternal aunt’s) eldest daughter, Shahbano and her husband, Nadeem Lodhi, played gracious and unflinching hosts to the occasion — a rambunctious, emotional, anarchic affair characterized by rowdiness borne from reliving younger and altogether innocent and carefree days, afforded by the solidity of familial bonds and connection with the roots that nurtured those bonds.<br />
<br />
The male members of our family being a relatively rare species, until my grandfather's and father’s generation, us cousins are mostly related by maternal relationships and this gathering was somewhat of a celebration of matrilineal inheritance. Our common ancestor was my paternal great grandfather, Syed Ghulam Imam, hence the title of this blog.<br />
<br />
We were blessed by the presences of my <i>Phuppi</i> (paternal aunt) Sayyeda Tayyaba Nayyar Raza and my <i>Khala</i> (maternal aunt) Sayyeda Abida Sarwar Ali Abidi, who at 97 and 83 years of age, are the last surviving elders that have a direct connection and memory of the ancestral home and the foundations of the extended family.<br />
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The occasion was characterized by the bittersweet truth of the voyage of life, best captured in Khala’s words:</div>
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<span style="font-family: "lantinghei tc extralight"; font-size: 10pt;">“</span><i>Bachchay jawan ho ga’ay, Jawan boorhay ho ga’ay, boorhay guzar ga’ay…</i>” (The children have become adults, the adults have become elders, the elders have passed away…)<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></div>
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<br />
<b>The Performance</b></div>
<div>
<br />
Our family’s relationship with Fareed Ayyaz and Abu Mohammad goes back some fifty years, to when my father and Munshi Raziuddin, their father, established an instant bond of love and respect that would last the rest of their lives. Their relationship was not merely that of a musician and his audience, but that of a man of knowledge and an aesthete. Those foundations have built a relationship that has endured over the years and spans three generations. The years have made us witness to the ups and downs of the lives of the Qawwals, their solid belief in the destinies afforded them by the Almighty and their perseverance in staying true to their long and rich musical heritage. It is a source of great pride in seeing Fareed and Abu Mohammad ascend to the rank of the most famous of Qawwals.<br />
<br />
I first heard Fareed sing with the barrhi party of <i>Manzoor Qawwal aur Hamnawa</i> when he would not have been more than twelve years old, and when he already showed the virtuosity, confidence and enthusiasm of the principal singers of the group, all of whom were giants of the Qawwali genre.<br />
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Over the years we have commemorated all sorts of occasions — births, marriages, even the passage of loved ones — with the Qawwali of Munshi Raziuddin and his sons. In some instances, sessions were held for no other reason than my family and I were being on home leave in Pakistan.<br />
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The performance is woven with themes of remembrance and the classical expression of which Fareed and Abu Mohammad are such masterful exponents. They recited kalaams from all the great Sufi Poets — Hazrat Amir Khusro, Kabir Das, Baba Bulleh Shah, Hazrat Shah Niaz and others. The concert intertwines lesser recited pieces with some of the more popular, the latter being included to involve the younger members of the audience.<br />
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If there is one piece in this concert that captured my soul, it was the recitation of “Bakhoobi Hum Cho Meh” in Raga Shahana. The Raaga as well as the Persian Kalaam are compositions of Hazrat Ameer Khusro, and “majestic” is about the only word that can capture the quality of this composition. In current times, most Qawwals cannot, or choose not to, sing the piece for the difficulty of doing it adequate justice. In some instances the tempo is made faster, which trivializes the mood.<br />
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The performance of Shahana in the 1969 mehfil, posted on this blog, is the definitive performance I have heard. But that was rendered by four Master Qawwals, all at their peak, singing in wonderful unison. One can appreciate the difficulty of rendering it in its true form when listening to the performance at this Mehfil. One can almost see and hear Fareed’s lungs squeezing that last bit of breath to elongate the expression of phrases. As he says at one point, “<i>Munay dervaish rah…teen lafz hain…saans phutt jata hai…</i>” [ Roughly translated, “These are just three words, but singing them causes the lungs to explode!”].<br />
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All in all, this is one of the three best concerts in our collection. It just goes to prove, once again, that the emotional connect between performer and audience is the ethereal spark that ignites an inspired performance. — <b><i>Asif Mamu</i></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>(Special thanks to Mahera Omar and Talha Ahmed for shooting and editing the videos of this mehfil.) </i></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Dua : Abeeda Sarwar Abidi Sahiba </span></b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/147049597" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <b> </b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Saazina</span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/146523797" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe>></span></div>
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<b>Dholan Manda Ghar Aavii (Raaga Palasi/Bhimpalasi)</b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/147049967" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <span style="color: red; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
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<b>Qaul Mun Kunto Maula </b><span style="color: red; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/235997986%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-dFxsc&color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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<b> </b></div>
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<b>Aay Dayya Kahan Gaye veh Logh (Raaga Bilawal)</b> </div>
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<b><br />Mairay Banay ki Baath na Poochho </b><iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/235997988%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-r5Guk&color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><span style="color: red; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
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<b>Bakhoobi hum cho meh (Raaga Shahana) </b><span style="color: red; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/146523973" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <span style="color: red; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
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<b>Hazrat Khwaja Sung Khailyeh Dhammal / Ali daiyo Badhayee/ Kirpa karo Maharaj, Khwaja Moinuddin</b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/235997992%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-ufnaZ&color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><b><span style="color: red; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span> </b></div>
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<b>Bhalla Hua Mayree Gagree Phooti / Tayray Ishq Nachachaya</b><span style="color: red; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/146527448" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe></div>
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<b>Chaap Tilak Sub Chheeney (Raaga Des) </b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/146527459" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <span style="color: red; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
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<b>Ay Sukh Dayya (Raga Kedara)</b><br />
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<b>Manam Mahvay Jamaal-i-Oo </b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/146527487" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <span style="color: red; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<b><br />Ay Dil Baygeer Daaman i Sultan i Auliya</b><b><span style="color: red; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<b><br />Ay Dil Baygeer Daaman i Sultan i Auliya (Soz) </b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/146527600" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <span style="color: red; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<b><br />Salaam</b><br />
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<b></b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/146527622" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <b><i><br /></i></b></div>
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bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-83617270416213052682015-08-22T11:00:00.000-04:002018-03-26T00:19:55.455-04:00Farid Ayaz, Abu Muhammad — Sanjan Nagar Institute, 2007<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We take a break in this post from our tradition of presenting music from the personal collection of Asif Hasnain mamu and his father, the late Mr. Mehdi Hasnain. The session we are sharing here was recorded in Lahore in 2007 at the <b>Sanjan Nagar Institiute of Philosophy and Arts</b>.<br />
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The founder of the institute is Mr. Raza Kazim, an eminent lawyer, activist, intellectual, and musicologist. Mr. Kazim comes from a family of lawyers with roots in U.P. He migrated to Karachi in September 1947, later settling in Lahore to pursue his legal practice.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Raza Kazim</td></tr>
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When I met him last December at his Lahore residence, Mr. Kazim shared copies of a couple of qawwali sessions recorded several years ago at his Institute. The Institute is housed in a villa that also hosts a recording studio and a workshop for building high-end audio amplifiers and speakers. My wife (who is his niece) and I spent a couple of hours with him that lovely Saturday morning in a rewarding conversation that covered a range of subjects from the Pakistan Movement to Marxism, genealogy and personal influences, and, of course, music. I came out so much the richer for the conversation. It will be impossible for me to do justice to Mr. Kazim's fascinating life and extensive achievements. I can only point interested readers to <a href="http://sanjannagar.org/raza-kazim/">his website</a> and to<a href="http://www.dawn.com/news/1134879"> a recent interview</a> for more information.<br />
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Incidentally, his daughter Noor Zehra is an accomplished sitarist and has been working with Mr. Kazim on testing and demonstrating the prowess of the <a href="https://sanjannagar.wordpress.com/sagar-veena/">Sagar Veena,</a> an instrument of the veena family invented and perfected by Mr. Kazim over the last thirty years. (As it happens, Sagar Veena was the original name for this instrument. After many years Mr. Kazim has recently concluded that the appropriate name for it is Shruti Sagar, so that's what it's called now. The famous Pakistani sitar master Ustad Sharif Khan Poonchwala was a close acquaintance of Mr. Kazim and affectionately referred to the instrument as "Raza Been," a name Mr. Kazim did not consent to. To my knowledge there is at least one published recording (from EMI in the 1970s) featuring Ustad Sharif Khan performing on the instrument. Some lovely recordings of Ms. Noor Zehra playing the Shruti Sagar can be <a href="https://soundcloud.com/philosophy-arts/aiman-kalayan">heard here</a>.)<br />
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Mr. Kazim kindly permitted me to post the qawwali recordings on the blog. This session stands out to me for a couple of reasons. First, for the high quality of the recording. And, secondly, for the crisp and measured presentation style Farid Ayaz had chosen for the melodious recitals. The tracks of this session, especially <b>Kanhaiya</b>, <b>Khabaram Raseeda</b><i>, </i>and <b>Moray sar se tali bala</b>, are among the finest renditions of these brandishes I have heard Farid Ayaz & Abu Muhammad perform. The <b>Harshab manam futada</b> was new to me and left me mesmerized. It has been sung the way it should be. Overall, the session belongs in the category of memorable live performances that come about only in the presence of discerning audiences. <span class="st">—</span> <i><b>Bohotkhoob</b></i>.<br />
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<iframe frameborder="no" height="600" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/playlists/104602670&color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe> </div>
bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-44221894418902125852015-07-31T00:17:00.002-04:002021-02-04T20:33:41.817-05:00Ustaads Qudratullah Khan & Ashiq Ali Khan, 1969<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</xml><![endif]-->This recording was the first part of the performance of the mehfil held in 1969, which has been posted earlier in this blog (<a href="http://qaul.blogspot.com/2008/05/1969-mehfil-qawwals-raziuddin-niazi.html">link</a>). I had long thought this recording was lost, but fortunately found a copy of it in the loveable chaos of my late father’s papers and music that I was able to sort out last year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpiTgTIrTTMI48Q4IUSwDTvdoB0eXQyXThbc_E8Naa-RmxnrLrrY9b83Bk1uDxxXnN1j2oJDpqmDxMGLzJQeOaGgmoHDvfrmAtGdNdvnoZiJ35n11GKZYmgO23qdgoMipKBb7gNkx68Qw/s1600/ashiqAli_on_tanpura_-qudartullah_gwalior_gharana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpiTgTIrTTMI48Q4IUSwDTvdoB0eXQyXThbc_E8Naa-RmxnrLrrY9b83Bk1uDxxXnN1j2oJDpqmDxMGLzJQeOaGgmoHDvfrmAtGdNdvnoZiJ35n11GKZYmgO23qdgoMipKBb7gNkx68Qw/s200/ashiqAli_on_tanpura_-qudartullah_gwalior_gharana.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ustaad Qudratullah (L) and Ustaad Ashiq Ali Khan<br />
Photo Credit: Asad Ali Khan</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Ustaad Qudratullah Khan (1911-1984) and Ustaad Ashiq Ali Khan (1927-1974) were great-grandsons of <b>Ustaad Shadi Khan</b> of Fatehpur Chunya (East Punjab), who had settled in Khairpur (Sind) in 1830 at the invitation of the local ruler Mir Murad Ali Talpur. Their grandfather <b>Ustaad Gamman Khan</b> received his initial training from his father (Ustaad Shadi Khan) and later became a disciple of Ustaad Banne Khan, a prominent student of Haddu Khan and Hassu Khan, the legendary duo from the Gwalior gharana. Qudratullah and Ashiq Ali's father, <b>Ustaad Mubarak Ali Khan</b>, a notable classical vocalist of the first half of the 20th century, passed them the Gwalior lineage.<br />
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While not as well-known as the other two pairs of brothers — Nazakat Ali-Salamat Ali and Amanat Ali-Fateh Ali — that dominated the Pakistani classical music scene of the 1960s and ‘70s, Ashiq Ali and Qudratullah had no less a virtuosity and musical pedigree. Thus the Pakistani music scene of the ‘60s and ‘70s benefited from the presence of duos from Shaam Chaurasi, Patiala, and Gwalior gharanas.<br />
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<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/215545539&color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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None other than Munshi Raziuddin invited them to precede the main 1969 Manzoor Niazi group qawwali session. Indeed, Munshi Raziuddin was the one who introduced these singers to my father’s circle. This was typical of Munshi Raziuddin’s generosity of spirit — lesser musicians would be jealous in guarding their audiences and patrons and do not usually enable others an entry into circles that they have cultivated. If one listens carefully enough, one can hear Razi Mian and Manzoor Mian offering <i>daads</i> (expressions of appreciation) during the course of the performance. That is not the entire extent of Munshi Raziuddin’s appreciation. As the qawwals tuned up for the recital of Tilak Kamod at the start of their part of the session, Razi Mian directs a comment at Ashiq Ali and Qudratullah: <i>Ustaad aysay maqaam pay chhora hay tum nay, samajh main nahin aaraha kya karoon</i>. (“Ustaad you have left things at such an [elevated] stage that I cannot work out what to do.”)<br />
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The performance itself is rhythmic and melodious, characterized by a short alaap, and most of it in the vilambit movement. It culminates in a powerful tarana that is planted indelibly in the musical mind. The vigour of the performance belies the fact that Ustaad Qudratullah would have been in his late fifties at the time of the performance and Ustaad Ashiq Ali in his early forties. Recordings of this duo are few and far between, and I am relieved that this treasure has been preserved and available for all to share. — <i><b>Asif Mamu</b></i>.<br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=585685489906451430#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: 9.0pt;">Biographical material is assembled thanks to the
resolute effort of my nephew, Hasnain, who prefers the appellation <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bohotkhoob</i>. Special thanks to Ustaad Ashiq Ali's grandson <a href="https://plus.google.com/103319300915025484796/posts">Asad Ali Khan</a> for permission to use the duo's photo.</span></div>
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bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-68562414899285893202015-05-10T13:33:00.000-04:002015-09-10T23:42:14.911-04:00Music of the Court Of Shah Jahan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>MUSIC AND MUSICIANS
OF THE COURT OF SHAH JAHAN</b></div>
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Professor Abdul Halim<br />
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<span class="st">(</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><i>Read at the Indian Research Association, Muslim University, Aligarh, U.P. Published 1945.</i>)</span></div>
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SHAH Jahan’s reign constitutes a brilliant epoch in the
evolution of Indian music as in that of other fine arts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The process of co-mingling between the Persian
and Indian art forms had reached a final stage in the reign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indian or Persian music loses its
individuality and both coalesce to take a decisive Indo-Persian form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One is struck to notice that while there were
more than half a dozen musicians and instrument-players at Akbar’s court who
hailed from Meshed, Herat or Khurasan, and naturally played in the
system prevailing in their country, there were only two such musicians at the
court of Shah Jahan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only so, but in
Shah Jahan’s reign, the art of music reaches a polish and grace unprecedented
in the past. This stage in
the development of music seems to have been assisted by the prevalence of
comparative peace and the personal predilection and refined tastes of the
emperor, who delighted in surrounding himself with artists and men of letters
and lavishly patronized them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shah
Jahan, who was sufficiently orthodox in the matter of faith, had, like other
Muhammedan rules of India, a fine taste for Hindustani music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nay, he was, according to the court
chronicler, an accomplished vocalist and had a very sweet voice which kept his
listeners spell-bound. It was
his habit to listen to music after the transaction of State business before
sunset, and at night he listened to the music played by women-singers of the
harem between super and sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apart from daily routine, music formed an
essential part of the court rejoicings and festivities, say on the solar or
lunar new year’s day, the anniversary of the royal accession to the throne,
marriage and birth ceremonies, the recovery from sickness of princess or
princesses, and the Ids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On such
occasions the emperor paid keen attention to musicians and instrument-players,
who played their art in turn and each received handsome rewards. In the rejoicings connected with the recovery
of princess Jahan Ara, 1054/1644, he bestowed two thousand rupees on La’l Khan
Gunsamundr, one thousand rupees on Rang Khan, and twelve thousand rupees on
other musicians.<br />
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Fortunately, we get a full picture of the music and
musicians of the reign from Faqirullah’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rag
Darpan</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Man Kautuhal</i> a
treatise on Indian music completed between 1073 and 1078 (1661 and 1665).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Intended as a work on the scientific basis of
Indian music, the manuscript gives the type of information which a historian
would like to get in chapters XI and XII.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Faqirullah informs us that musical concerts were divided into three
categories, Uttam (good), Maddham (mediocre), and Nikisht (third-rate).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An Uttam type of concert consisted of four
musicians of the first, eight of the medium class, twelve beautiful women, four
players of the Bansri (flute), and four Mridang (Pakhawaj, a timing instrument)
players.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the medium concert half of
the musicians (that is two) consisted of singers of the Uttam category, other
members being the same as in the Uttam type. The Uttam concert of the women musicians who played in the harem consisted of two women musicians, two mediocre women musicians, two women Bansari players, and three Mridang players. The Maddham consisted of one woman Ustad (master), and four women players of the Bansari. While claiming originality for the musicians of Shah Jahan, the historian asserts that compared with Shah Jahan's musicians those of Akbar's court, including Tansen, were 'Quacks', because all their theoretical knowledge had been based on <i>Rag-Sagar</i>, which, the author says, Akbar had got translated, and 'they (musicians) did not know anything about the real music embodied in the <i>Man Kautuhal</i> which Raja Mansigh Tonwar (1468-1517 A.D.) of Gwalior had compiled' with the assistance of the leading musicians of his court, such as Naik Mahmud, Naik Bakkshu and Naik Pande. Though there seems to be much exaggeration in this statement, perhaps Faqirullah wishes to impress upon his readers that the musicians of Shah Jahan's court were conversant with the new technique and style introduced into music by Raja Man of Gwalior to a greater degree.<br />
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It may be presumed that in Shah Jahan's reign there existed a tendency towards the cultivation of new airs and melodies as given in the <i>Man Kautuhal</i> which had begun to assume standardised form. It is certain that there had crept in a tendency towards beautification and ornamentation in music, as is provided by the gradual revival of Khiyal. We may assume that there was general tendency to deviate from the rigid conventionalism of the Old Dhrupad style of singing or playing on instruments.<br />
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"When His Majesty happened to reside at Agra," Faqirullah says in the introduction of <i>Man Kautuhal</i>, "matchless artists used to assemble round him, most of them belonging to Gwalior." From various historical sources we learn of the existence of about thirty musicians and instrumentalists of a high order. The names do not include any woman artist.<br />
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MYSTIC MUSICIANS </div>
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AMONG the musicians of Shah Jahan's court, the earliest to deserve mention was Shaikh Bahauddin, a mystic who died in the second year of Shah Jahan's accession to the throne at the ripe age of 117 years. He was an inhabitant of Barnawa, a village in the Jhunjhana Pargana in the Middle Doab, and belonged to a family of mystics. He had grown into a young man of sportive habits, but renounced the world, it is said, after an incident in hunting when a deer which he had aimed at with his matchlock opened its voice to reprimand him. He took to a life of travel at the age of 25 and met with the leading saints and mystics of his time. In order to learn music, he travelled to the Deccan and devoted himself strenuously to learning to play upon instruments till the age of 50. He then returned to his home in Jhunjhana and lived a celibate life, and wore green clothes from head to foot. "In the science of music he had no peer even in the Deccan, and had composed many beautiful Gits, Dhrupads, Khiyals and Taranas." He was an excellent player of Amrit Bin, and had invented an instrument called Khiyal, 'which had a strange appearance.' Two of his disciples <span class="st">—</span> Rashid and Asad <span class="st">—</span> kept him company ; while he sang Rashid played on the an instrument called Bhagwan (Bin), 'which could not be wielded by anybody else.'</div>
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Sher Muhammad was another mystic musician, and a disciple of Shaikh Bahauddin. It is stated about him that after the death of his father in his boyhood, he came to Shaikh Nasiruddin who was also one of his relatives, but on the decease of the latter, he was forced to change a settled life for one of rambles and travels. He had picked up Persian music from Shaikh Nasiruddin, who was without a match among his contemporaries. "Though not as accomplished a vocalist as Sultan Husain Shah Sharqi, he produced melodies at the time of singing which, though they did not conform to the strict rules of Sangit, were so appealing that they cannot be reproduced in measures of writing."</div>
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Another mystic musician was Miyan Dalu, who belonged to the same tribe as Miyan Sher Muhammad. Miyan Dalu had become a mendicant and mixed little with men of the world. He was a very accomplished Dhrupad singer. His compositions too were of a very high order. "Though great men (ascetics and mystics) of the time took great delight in cultivating music, there were none as accomplished as he," and "no one had seen a better player of instruments or heard of any better than he in any age."</div>
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DHRUPADISTS</div>
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BUT the most honoured musician of the time, who had pre-eminence over all the rest of the court, was La'l Khan Kalawant (artist), on whom Shah Jahan bestowed the title Gun-Samudr (Gun-Samundar in Persian histories, 'Ocean of Virtues or Knowledge') on Rajab 1, 1047/19th November 1637 A.D. He was the son-in-law of Bilas Khan, son of Miyan Tansen, on whom he had made such an impression with his progress in learning the art that Tansen handed him over to the charge of his son Bilas Khan for further training, and took the initiative in getting Bilas Khan's daughter married to him. Faqirullah calls him a matchless Dhrupad singer. At the time of his singing four of his sons kept him company, all being alike in style. La'l Khan is frequently mentioned in the <i>Badshah Nama</i>, and he was regarded as the premier musician of the court and was profusely rewarded by the emperor. On Rajab 24, 1052/October 18, 1642, on the occasion of the festivities of the second anniversary of the coronation, the emperor bestowed on him an elephant after listening to him. On the occasion of the New (solar) Year festivities in 1053/1645-46, La'l Khan was one of the recipients of appropriate rewards. He was given 4 thousand rupees in Rajab 1055/1645, on the occasion of the 10th anniversary of the accession, and one thousand rupees four months later. La'l Khan also composed songs in the name of the emperor, and died at the age between 80 and 90 years. But the foremost composer of the time was Jagannath Mahakabi Rai. It is believed that after Tansen no better composer had been born in Indian. It is said about him that he composed some Dhrupads and brought them before Miyan Tansen, who approvingly said, "If his life is spared for long, his place will be next to mine in composition." He sang in the Karnatic, and the people in Northern India, laments Abdul Hamid Lahori, "did not grasp anything except the voice and the melody." Gun-Sen was another Dhrupadist who bore the title of Naik-i-Afdal (the great Naik). He was a descendant of Naik Bharru, a singer of Git and "pre-eminent among his contemporaries in the science of music." Muhib Khan Gujrati, Dhrupadist, was a disciple of Bilas Khan, about whom "those versed in music have spoken well." Muhib Khan had a disciple in Basanthi Kalawant, who was a good musician. Rang Khan Kalawant was a very high-class musician of the Dhrupad school, who held a position among court musicians second only to that of La'l Khan Gun-Samudr. "Music took shape even when he sang for a while." He died between 80 and 90 years of age. He was one of those artists who had seen the time of Jahangir. One of the greatest musicians of the court was Khush-hal Khan, on whom the emperor conferred the title of Gun-Samudr after the death of his father La'l Khan Gun-Samudr, in 1065/1654. "There does not exist," says Faqirullah, "a Kalawant like him." Other dhrupadists mentioned by the same author were Bazid Khan Tujhawari ; Tulsi Ram Kalawant ; Dharam-das Kalawant, "who, having lost the elasticity of his voice, left the imperial service to settle in Agra till his death" ; Hamir Sen and his son Subal Sen. The former had seen the times of Jahangir, the latter had his musical talents impaired by the loss of his teeth at the early age of 40 ; and Hasan Khan Nuhar, grandson of Said Khan and a 'matchless singer.'</div>
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Two musicians are mentioned as having accompanied Prince Shah Shuja to Bengal with the permission of the emperor <span class="st">—</span> Misri Khan Dhari, a musician and disciple of Bilas Khan, who died Bihar, and Gun Khan who died in Bengal.</div>
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DHARIS</div>
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THE professional court musicians of the Dhari type were Sawad Khan of Fathpur Jhunjhana ; Wali Dhari, a musician-composer<span class="st"></span> ; Rahimdad Dhari ; Gop Chop Dhari, a musician composer. In the list of musician composers come the names of Ghulam Muhiyuddin, who was living in Faqirullah's time, and Bocha, brother of Sher Muhammad. The latter died of fistula in Agra when he was between 50 and 60 years of age.</div>
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QAWALS</div>
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THE artists of the Qawali school, were Rauza Qawal and Kabir Qawal, the latter being a disciple of Sher Muhammad.</div>
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There were only two court musicians representing the Persian school of music, Muhammad Baqi Mughal, a good composer whose accomplishments declined owing to his taking too much opium, and Mir Imdad, also a musician-composer, a Sayyid of Herat whose father had migrated from Central Asia.</div>
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KHIYALISTS</div>
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KHIYAL as a style of music had not yet become popular ; it had had few advocates up to that time. It does not appear to have competed with Dhrupad on terms of equality. Its heyday was destined to come later, in the reign of Muhammad Shah. Only two musicians of the Khiyal school are mentioned in Shah Jehan's reign <span class="st">— Raja Idsingh Bor (Gor ?), and Raja Ram Shah of Khargpur, the latter well versed in the style of Amir Khusraw and Sultan Shah Sharqi. Among Raja Ram Shah's compositions were many Dadras, Khiyals and Taranas.</span></div>
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<span class="st">In closing the 12th Chapter Faqirullah pleads for brevity in these words:- "Since so many Kalawants had the fortune to serve His Majesty, details of them would lengthen the narrative."</span></div>
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<span class="st">In the foregoing observations the following features are prominently noticeable:-</span></div>
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<li><span class="st">That Dhrupad held the field and was organised as the highest form of musical art.</span></li>
<li><span class="st">That Khiyal had fewer advocates, though its existence as a form of music had been traced in books of music to the time of Amir Khusraw or Sultan Husain Shah of Jaunpur.</span></li>
<li><span class="st">That mystics not only delighted in listening to music but many of them were first-class musicians themselves.</span></li>
<li><span class="st">That the Deccan still maintained its reputation as the home of high-class music, as it did in the days of Amir Khusraw.</span></li>
<li><span class="st">That Gwalior continued its reputation as a great centre of music in Northern India and supplied, as in Akbar's days, the bulk of the court artists.</span></li>
<li><span class="st">That only two musicians represented the Persian or non-Indian school, the one a Mughal, the other a Persian arriving from Herat, and the rest were Indians, demonstrating that the struggle between the two systems had reached a decisive stage.</span></li>
<li><span class="st">That there was an increased tendency towards ornamentation and beautification in singing or playing on instruments and the rigid convention of the old Dhrupad style had been definitely discarded.</span></li>
<li><span class="st">That ingenuity in inventing new musical instruments went side by side with the development of a more polished form of music, to alleviate, as it were, the grim majesty of Dhrupad.</span></li>
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bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-22689461819369421362015-05-09T15:18:00.003-04:002015-07-03T23:33:17.795-04:00River of the Virtuous People - Qasida by Amir Khusrau<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Recently while browsing through my copy of <i>Life, Times and Works of Amir Khusrau</i>, I came across a short essay on a qasida titled <b>Bahr-ul-Abrar</b>. This was one of Khusaru's well-known qasidas and it invited both the approbation and the envy of his peers and successors. Among the poets who praised it was Nur ad-din Jami who composed a qaseeda in its imitation titled <i>Lujjat-ul-Asrar</i> (depth of the mysteries).</div>
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Khusrau said about Bahr-ul-Abrar: <b>If my works were to be totally lost except this qasida, it will hardly worry me, because whoever reads it will appreciate my value and my talent in the intellectual community.</b><br />
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The author of the above-mentioned essay, Professor Khalilullah Khalili (1907–1987), introduces the qasida thus:</div>
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"I prefer to know Khusaru through only one of his works, rather than all his works, because it will require a long time ... to study his works and trace their characteristics.... In Bahr-ul-Abrar he has described the primary duties and functions of a human being. He emphasizes that if human beings are seduced and misled they tend to be the worst of creatures; otherwise they are the gems of the crown of creation. In Bahr-ul-Abrar he is not only a person attached to the threshold of Khwaja Nizamuddin but he is a teacher who with a far reaching voice is the harbinger of discipline, equality, relation of man with man and universal brotherhood."</div>
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He goes on to make an interesting observation about Ameer Khusrau's use of imagery of empire and power in the beginning of the qasida: Even though Khusrau was intimately connected with the courts of several kings and princes, in his poetry he regarded wordily power as worthless.</div>
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The qasida is a collection of twenty-five standalone couplets, each encapsulating a deep spiritual insight into some aspect of life. Notwithstanding that we don't have music to accompany it, I thought it would be apt to share parts of the qasida here. — <i><b>Bohotkhoob</b></i>.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">قصیدهٔ بحر ابرار </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> این تلخ می که هست دل مرده را حیات</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">زهر است در دهان حریفان بد فعال</span><br />
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<b>Bahr-ul-Abrar </b></div>
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<b>The River of Virtuous People </b><br />
<b>It is the bitter wine that will give life to the dead soul </b><br />
<b>and will act like poison in the mouth of the viscous rival</b></div>
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<b>Qasida by Hazrat Amir Khursau</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_kB5dnV0EuhKkVD0OnTAOe-Sh38jWr9PUQzB4x4HcywVEKCT6FP5WBVqcXYxqE1QtmiuxhMu0y_mD_nAb2O5SpWSrKCPIAdk-kqLVYX7gbVAc0bXpxpbpqipzop6c3vi0qG87nqbNdpI/s1600/dervish03_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_kB5dnV0EuhKkVD0OnTAOe-Sh38jWr9PUQzB4x4HcywVEKCT6FP5WBVqcXYxqE1QtmiuxhMu0y_mD_nAb2O5SpWSrKCPIAdk-kqLVYX7gbVAc0bXpxpbpqipzop6c3vi0qG87nqbNdpI/s200/dervish03_large.jpg" width="135" /> </a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">کوس شه خالی و بانک غلغلش درد سر است</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">هر که قانع شد به خشک و ترشهٔ بحر وبر است</span></div>
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The Drum of the King is Empty and causes Headache when Struck</div>
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Who is Content with the Dry (Bread) and the Wet (Water) Rules the Sea and the Land</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">تا ز هر بادی به جنبی ، پا به دامن کش چو کوه</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">کادمی مشتی غبار و عمر باد صرصر است</span></div>
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The Wind may not Always Blow Tenderly, You Must Stand on Your Feet as Firm as a Mountain</div>
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For Man is but a Handful of Dust and Life is like a Boisterous Wind </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">دولت آن نبود که سلطان را پرستی چون سگان</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">خدمت درویش کن کاین مایه فراذ فرتر است</span></div>
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You Cannot Earn Wealth and Status by Worshiping the King like a Dog</div>
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Be at the Service of a Dervish for This is a More Respectable Way of Reaching Glory</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">مرد بینا در گلیم و پادشاه عالم است</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">تیغ خفته در نیام و پاسبان کشور است</span></div>
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A Man with Insight Even if he is Covered in Rugs Rules the World</div>
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The Sword may be Sheathed and Yet it Protects the Country</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">پیر ار از نامردای رگ چو پیدا شد ز پوست</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">بهر تعلیم مریدان، راستی را مسطر است</span></div>
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If the Veins become Visible on the Thin Body of the Old Teacher</div>
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They Serve the Purpose of a Lined Table for Teaching Truth to the Disciples</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">جعفر آن باشد که طیار ازفلک بیرون پرد</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">نی کسی کاو بال را طیار سازد جعفر است</span></div>
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Jafar Must Fly Beyond the Wordly Sky</div>
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None can be Jafar Simply by Preparing Wings to Glide Away</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">نفس خاک تست هر گه نور بر تو تافتست</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">سایه زیر پابود هر گه که برتارک خور است</span></div>
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The Nafs (Ego) eats Dust when the Radiance sheds Lustre on it</div>
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The Shadow Falls under the Feet when the Sun Shines over the Head</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">در تصوف ، رسم جستن، خنده کردن بر خود است</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">در تیمم مسح کردن خاک کردن برسر است</span></div>
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By Becoming a Ritualist in the Mystic Way of Life One Ridicules Oneself</div>
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Masah on the Head while doing Tayammum is like Putting Dust on One's Head</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">رخش همت را فگن بر گستوان از دلق فقر</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">نقش محراب بکن کاینجا جهاد اکبر است</span></div>
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Armour the Horse of Resolution with the Patched Cloak of "Faqr"</div>
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Humble it at the Altar for it is the Waging of holy war against one's Lusts</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">احتراق مفلسی مصباح راه ظلمت است</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">ذوالفقار حیدری مفتاح به آب خیبر است</span></div>
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The Fire of Poverty Kindles the Path of Darkness</div>
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The Zulfiqar of Haider was the Key to Khayber</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJrw_6qZtXLHYC8hv3t9-JMsCdmUtJJlCSq9W6FTR2RWAAgNTDt3I8EtD_viYHpov1XerDk9MX_STA7jE2xEyqUG-GBSw2zeLwTE3IlzLQ3l3ZdZOC3izx93R7V_0pdgybh6W11wjqkg/s1600/rembrandt_indian_miniature_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJrw_6qZtXLHYC8hv3t9-JMsCdmUtJJlCSq9W6FTR2RWAAgNTDt3I8EtD_viYHpov1XerDk9MX_STA7jE2xEyqUG-GBSw2zeLwTE3IlzLQ3l3ZdZOC3izx93R7V_0pdgybh6W11wjqkg/s200/rembrandt_indian_miniature_large.jpg" width="148" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">هر که خواند علم شرع آنهم نه از بهر خداست</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">از پی تعظیم میرد اعتقاد داور است</span></div>
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The People Learn the Law of Shariat not for God's Sake</div>
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But for Showing their Respect to the Nobles and their Faith in the Rulers </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">معنی خسرو موثر ناید اندر مردگان</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">هیچگه دیدی که مستی در سبو و ساغر است</span></div>
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The Utterances of Khusrau Have no Effect on the Dead Souls</div>
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Has One Ever Witnessed Intoxication in Ewer and Goblet?</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">یاربم تو فیق ده کارم به جانا وقت مرگ</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">آنچه فرمان خدا و سنت پیغمبر است</span></div>
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O God, Bestow Your Favour on me till I Die</div>
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To Enable me to Perform my Duties Towards God and the Prophet</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Image credits: </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.superluminal.com/cookbook/index_gallery.html">Superluminal</a> and</span> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://collections.lacma.org/">LACMA</a></span></div>
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bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-3508228681874400482015-05-04T19:21:00.000-04:002015-05-09T15:10:09.697-04:00Faiz on Khusrau<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Tribute to Hazrat Amir Khusrau </h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4CJuNBzYJGn40bgoH6KYUb5L4TP4KjCRlvuPvt2hQpaW1Okc0Vy7_WAme4j3WkJUhEn8DhlybDkM7xhB4S9O7QvBq2hMUsDR66RF5OoV8jnphHOleUdr_rmpSBPc2wKhUltJ0a6AUd0/s1600/FaizFaiz_NewBioImage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4CJuNBzYJGn40bgoH6KYUb5L4TP4KjCRlvuPvt2hQpaW1Okc0Vy7_WAme4j3WkJUhEn8DhlybDkM7xhB4S9O7QvBq2hMUsDR66RF5OoV8jnphHOleUdr_rmpSBPc2wKhUltJ0a6AUd0/s200/FaizFaiz_NewBioImage.jpg" width="197" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Faiz Ahmed Faiz</td></tr>
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Of the many great names that adorn the pages of Muslim history in South Asia, the name of Hazrat Amir Khusrau ranks amongst the greatest. Scholar and statesman, soldier and savant, courtier and mystic, writer and musicologist, philosopher and wit, he combined in his person the best of all the accomplishments that contemporary society offered. He lived in one of the most formative periods of the social and cultural evolution of Muslim society as a separate and distinctive entity <span class="st">—</span> the period of the Delhi Sultanate. It was during this period that the process of ethnic and cultural assimilation of Muslim West-Asian and indigenous South Asian peoples matured, a process that reached its culmination during the days of the great Mughal Empire. Muslim immigrants from across its borders gradually came to accept their new habitation as a land of their own: the barriers of racial exclusiveness and social elitism which divided the Turkish aristocracy and the native masses were effectively pierced and out of the fusion of their two cultures a new civilization was born. This cultural synthesis found expressions at different levels in language and literature, in music and the decorative arts, in social and religious practices, and in the idiom of everyday living. Amir Khusaru was one of the main catalytic agents in this ferment and strode like a colossus over this vast panorama of social, political and cultural change.</div>
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He was a humanist in the truest sense of the word, equally opposed to the aristocratic ideals of nobility of birth and purity of blood and the heartless fanaticism of bigoted priestocracy. He was equally at home in the company of the highest in the land, kings and emperors, and the most lowly born weavers and washermen, peasants and working women. And he wrote and sang for all of them. He wrote ornate eulogies of kings and captains, profound historical and philosophical dissertations for the learned, tender and moving lyrics both devout and profane, alongside riddles and jingles for children, word games for housewives, and homely songs for love-sick maidens and tired old men. And he taught the music makers of his time to sing these compositions in a mode that touched every heart. Thus apart from his very significant contributions to contemporary history, it is by this ineffable body of music and verse that he is best remembered by posterity.</div>
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Amir Khusaru was born in 651 Hijra, i.e., 1252-53 A.D., at Patiali, a village near the present day town of Badaon (according to some authorities in Delhi). His father Amir Saifuddin Mahmood, a chieftain of the Lachin Turkish tribe, was forced to flee his territory in the face of Mongol onslaught and took service with Sultan Shamsuddin Iltmush at Delhi. He married an Indian lady Daulat Khatoon daughter of Imadul Mulk one of the most powerful nobles at the imperial court. Khusrau, one of three brothers, Izzuddin Ali Shah, Abdul Hasan Khusrau, and Husaluddin Qutlugh, lost his father when he was only seven years old and was brought up by his maternal grandfather who was equally distinguished as scholar and statesman. It was under his care that the child Khusrau was introduced to all the branches of contemporary knowledge. It was also in the same household that he sat at the feet of his spiritual mentor and beloved master "The King of Saints" Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia of Delhi who stayed with Imadul Mulk for two years after obtaining his Khilafat from Hazrat Farid Gang Shakar. </div>
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Khusrau was a precocious child and fame as a poet came to him early but it was at the age of 20 that his political and literary career really began. During this same year he published his first Dewan and at the same time took service with Malik Chajju, a nephew of the emperor Balban and a generous and powerful prince. From 1273 to 1290, Amir Khusrau served in the courts of various nobles and princes, travelled with them and fought their battles all over the sub-continent from Bengal to the Punjab and from Sind to Deccan with a long sojourn in Multan. This was the formative period of his long life during which he mastered, apart from classics, Arabic, Persian, and Turkish, the dialects of the country (he mentions 12) and acquired a detailed and intimate knowledge of peoples and places of various regions. He wrote tirelessly all this while but it was after 1290 A.D., when he finally returned home to Delhi from his wanderings and spent the next thirty-five years in the imperial court, that his genius truly flowered and the voluminous body of his historical, lyrical and descriptive verses was composed. He wrote with equal facility in Perisan, Arabic and his native Hindi or Hindivi although much of what he wrote in the indigenous dialects appears to have been lost.</div>
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In the year 725/1325, the voice of this great "Songster of sugared tongue" was stilled and he was rejoined, as he ardently wished, with his beloved master "The King of Saints", who had died six months earlier.</div>
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<b>FAIZ AHMED FAIZ</b> </div>
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700th Anniversary of Amir Khusrau</div>
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EMI (Pakistan) - Long Play Records</div>
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1975<br />
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bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-24162503774771326212015-04-02T22:07:00.000-04:002015-04-02T22:07:50.673-04:00The Dream Journey, Dec 1-8, 2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Unlike most of the other posts in this blog, this is not a presentation of music, nor a recollection of past concerts, but the sharing of a special experience in which, you, the reader, may want to participate… do spare a moment or two to read through.<br /><br />As with many such things, it all started as a Good Idea. Five friends (1) with a shared passion for South Asian classical music and Qawwali thought it would be wonderful to travel through Pakistan to capture the sights and sounds of old musicians and new, in their living environments.<br /><br />Organizing the journey would have daunted mere mortals, not least due to our being spread across three continents, and the need to engage several musicians to perform over the planned 8-day trip. As if that was not enough of an obstacle course, there was just a month available for arranging everything, prior to our congregating in Karachi for the start of the trip.<br /><br />It seems that naive enthusiasm and ambition were outmatched by the blessings of the Powers That Be and everything fell into place. Most of the chosen musicians consented to be available for the scheduled times. In addition, one of Karachi’s best documentary film-makers, Mahera Omar, selflessly volunteered her time and resources to film and record the entire journey. As Musab, our young aficionado, has remarked, in <a href="http://lalioutloud.blogspot.com/2015/02/of-alpha-and-omega-ameer-khusrau-ra.html">a recent blog posting</a>, it seems that the spirit of none other than Ameer Khusro blessed our endeavor.<br /><br />The result of our enterprise was nothing short of exhilarating — the journey took us to Karachi, Lahore and Deepalpur. We recorded six sessions of vocal music, and a conversation with one of Pakistan’s leading Khyaal singers, all of this spanning dozens of hours. Some of the musicians are established and famous, others not so well-known, and one or two are amongst the brilliant budding talent that adorns Pakistan’s musical scene today. The music covered several forms in the Indo Pakistani tradition: Thumri, Ghazal, Qawwali and Khyaal. The kalaams that the musicians recited ranged across the whole spectrum of great poets: Khusro, Jalal ad<span style="font-family: inherit;">-D</span>in Rumi, Kabir, Baba Bulleh Shah, Waris Shah, Iqbal, Faiz and numerous other mystic poets of India and Pakistan. The performances evoked memories of the vibrancy of Hazrat Nizamuddin’s Delhi, the great aura of Ajmer, the haunting mysticism of the Great Rajputana and Sind Deserts, the fertile lushness of the Punjab, the majestic beauty of the Indo-Gangetic plane…<br /><br />While each of the mehfils had a distinct atmosphere and mood, there is a common thread. We asked each of the musicians to stay close to their respective inherited musical traditions. The audiences were intentionally minimal in size, so that the interactions of the audience and musicians were on the artists’ terms, with no distraction or concession made to contemporary fashion. In some instances, the singers presented pieces that are rarely heard today.<br /><br />Mahera has put together a three-minute trailer that perfectly encapsulates the mood:</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YR0K1Qfj69c" width="560"></iframe> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">We are inspired to present the entire brilliance of this contemporary Pakistani vocal musical to as wide an audience as possible, by producing a series of films that capture The Dream Journey.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;">Our
fearless Director, Mahera Omar, spent most of the eight days in this state of
concentration. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;">Her serious visage conceals a wicked sense of humour, though.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Photo courtesy of Musab bin Noor</i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">This enterprise of editing and producing the films and making them public over a dedicated website will require financial resources that are beyond the collective capacities of the current Partners in Crime, and if the film trailer and this description inspires you to contribute, dear reader, your financial contributions will be more than welcome.<br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">The performers and their music (in order of mehfils recorded)</span></b><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><i><u>Karachi Mehfils</u></i></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;">The
Prelude </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 10.6666669845581px;">— </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 8pt;">Shad Muhammad and Taj Muhammad, at T2F</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Photo courtesy of Arif Ali Khan</i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 9.0pt;">.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>Taj Muhammad, Shad Muhammad and Nasir Niazi Qawwals</b></i>: This group of young Qawwals trace their lineage to Atrauli in UP. Ustaad Alladiya Khan (1855-1946) is credited with the creation of the Jaipur/Atrauli Gharana. The Dhurpad form, as expressed by the Dagar Bani, inspired this tradition that is one of the major schools of North Indian Classical Khyaal. Allahdiya Khansahib undoubtedly influences the Qawwali offshoot of the Atrauli gharana.<br /><br />In Pakistan, the late Ustaad Moin Niazi Qawwal, the father of Taj and Shad Niazi was the prominent Qawwal from the Atrauli tradition, and attained considerable acclaim. His sons, Taj Muhammad and Shad Muhammad Nasir Niazi are emerging on their own after the demise of their elder brother, Ghaus Muhammad Nasir Niazi, who previously led the group. The brothers exude a quiet confidence and depth of musical training. Their beautifully enunciated poetry and measured performance set the stage for the rest of The Dream Journey.<br /><br />The performance was held at the premises of T2F, one of the most innovative and vibrant cultural spaces of Karachi, where Sabeen Mahmud kindly lent us the premises to hold this and the two subsequent mehfils.</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">___________</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><u>Qawwal Bachchay Delhi Gharaana</u>: The Qawwal Bachchay are the musical aristocracy of Indo-Pakistani Qawwali families. These are descendants of twelve young boys trained by Hazrat Ameer Khusro (1253-1325) in reciting Qawwali, one of his musical inventions.<br /><br />Of the various branches of the Qawwal Bachchay, the most senior are the offspring of Mian Sa’mat bin Ibrahim, who was initiated by Hazrat Ameer as the leader of the choral ensemble of the twelve. Mian Sa’mat’s descendent, Mian Qutub Baksh, (known familiarly as Tanras Khansahib) rose to prominence as the founder of the Delhi Gharaana and chief musician of the Darbar of Bahadur Shah Zaffar, the last Mughal emperor. He migrated with his family to Hyderabad Deccan in 1857, and his offspring were raised in Hyderabad, although some of them migrated back to Delhi and a branch of the family are the chief Qawwals of the Dargah of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya, Hazrat Ameer’s patron saint. <br /><br />Four grandsons of Tanras Khansahib — Ustaads Manzoor, Bahauddin, Munshi Raziuddin and Iftikhar — migrated to Pakistan in the early 1950s. From the late 1950s to about 1970, they formed a musical ensemble, Manzoor Ahmad Khan Niazi aur Hamnava, which constituted the foremost exponents of classical Qawwali in the sub-continent. The troupe branched out in the ‘seventies with each of the four master Qawwals attaining independent prominence and training his respective offspring in the art. Iftikhar passed away at an early age, as did his son, Afaq Ahmad.<br /><br />The next three mehfils involved the offspring and students of Ustaads Manzoor Ahmad Khan Niazi, Iftikhar Ahmad Khan Niazi and Munshi Raziuddin Ahmad Khan.<br /><br /><i><b>Ustaad Abdullah Manzoor Niazi</b></i>, the eldest son of Ustaad Manzoor Ahmad Khan Niazi, was one of the principal Qawwals in Ustaad Manzoor’s party and after the passage of Manzoor Sahib, led a Qawwal group formed with his brothers. Recently he has branched out with his sons supporting him.<br /><br />The performance, held at T2F, was steeped in Khusro’s kalaam and of a rigoruos classicism. Given the youth of his sons and accompanists Ustaad Abdullah carried the performance with a command and virtuosity rarely found in contemporary Qawwali, capturing Khusro’s poetry and its musical emotionality in all its subtlety and intensity.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;">Reviving
the memory of his legendary father </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 10.6666669845581px;">— </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 8pt;">Ustaad Abdullah Manzur Niazi </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 10.6666669845581px;">— </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 8pt;">at T2F </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Photo courtesy of Arif Ali Khan</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">___________</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>Subhan Ahmad Nizami</b></i> is the grandson of Ustaad Iftikhar Ahmed Nizami, the eldest member of the original Manzoor Niazi group. Iftikhar was one of the most versatile musicians of the group. His son, Subhan’s father Afaq Ahmed Niazi, was the family librarian, a specialist of Persian poetry and was proficient in classical music. After his father’s untimely death in 1999, Subhan, just 18 years old, formed his own qawwali group to continue the legacy of his father and grandfather. Subhan and his brothers are largely self-taught, not having benefited from the day-to-day guidance and tutelage of their elders. Their mastery belies their youth as much as it testifies to their dedication to the art.<br /><br />The performance was soothing to the ear as much as it was captivating of the soul. Some have aptly named Subhan and his brothers the “intellectual” Qawwals.</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;">The
intellectual Qawwal, sweet, melodic, pristine expression—Subhan Nizami at T2F</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Photo courtesy of Arif Ali Khan.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">___________</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>Fareed Ayaz and Abu Mohammad</b></i> are sons of Munshi Raziuddin Ahmad Khan. They are, arguably, Pakistan’s foremost and most internationally renowned living Qawwals.<br /><br />Fareed Ayyaz, the senior singer, was a prodigy who sang with aplomb as a junior accompanist, ever since he was ten or eleven years of age, in the Manzoor Niazi group. That experience and the enormous musical and poetic knowledge learned from his father allows Fareed a mastery of poetry that enables him to weave a tapestry of expression, combining couplets from diverse poets to create a singular poetic context. Rare is a song where he stays within the confines of a single raaga, choosing instead a medley of raagas, poets, couplets and languages to create the musical experience.<br /><br />This mehfil was held at the home of the Qawwals, in the Qawwal Muhalla, Garden East, Karachi. The neighbourhood has five or six streets named after the great Karachi-based Qawwals of the ‘50s and ‘60s. This neighbourhood never sleeps, it is home to some 40 families of Qawwals and, like so many parts of Karachi’s urban jungle, has a vibrant, chaotic atmosphere.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 8pt;">The Master Qawwals—Fareed Ayyaz, Abu Mohammad and family at their home in Garden East, Karachi. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 8pt;"><i>Photos courtesy of Arif Ali Khan</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The mehfil spanned some six hours and can hardly be termed a conventional qawwali mehfil. It involved intense and spontaneous conversation about music and its spiritual roots. It involved a session where the newer generation recited Qawwali in an Ustaad/Shaagird session, with Fareed providing immediate musical guidance to the newer generation emerging in its own right. It culminated with a recital by Fareed and Abu Mohammad of classic qawwali. All this and the location aroused intense nostalgia for the hours spent in Munshi Raziuddin’s company at this very home<span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Photo courtesy of Arif Ali Khan</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">___________</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><i><span style="font-size: large;">Deepalpur Mehfil</span></i></u><br /><br /><i><b>Ustaad Ameer Ali Khan</b></i>’s family hailed from Kapurthala in East Punjab, and migrated to Lahore and then to Deepalpur in 1947. Borne in Pakistan, Ameer Ali Khan’s father Ustaad Rafeeq Ali Khan was a student of the great Ustaad Fateh Ali Khan and Ameer Ali Khan of his son, the legendary Ustaad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;">Salt
of the Earth</span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><span style="font-size: 10.6666669845581px;">— </span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;">Ameer Ali Khan and party at Deepalpur, Punjab</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;"><i>Photos courtesy of Arif Ali Khan</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our journey from Lahore to Ameer Khan’s home in Deepalpur took place in balmy weather, under the crystalline Punjabi winter sky, driving through lush citrus orchards and fields blossoming with vivid yellow mustard flowers. The majesty of the surroundings elevated the spirits and set the mood for the mehfil that lay ahead. Our arrival in Deepalpur was greeted by warmth and hospitality from perfect strangers, with whom we paused to seek directions, radiating the legendary salt-of-the-earth character of rural Punjabi culture.<br /><br />Ameer Ali Khan is a vivacious presence with music oozing from his very pores. In our mehfil, he sang both solo pieces and conventional Qawwali his immense energy is harnessed and does not force the gimmickry that is the resort of lesser singers. There is a unique musicality to Ameer Khan’s style of recitation, matched by the complex, vocal expressions of his accompanists, the tabla and the harmonium. Few experiences can surpass hearing the poetry of Baba Bulleh Shah or Waris Shah when sung by Ameer Khan in the authentic, verdant, rural Punjabi setting… </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 8pt;">Salt of the Earth</span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><span style="font-size: 10.6666669845581px;">— </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 8pt;">Ameer Ali Khan and party at Deepalpur, Punjab</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 8pt;"><i>Photos courtesy of Arif Ali Khan</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><u>Lahore Mehfils</u></i></span><br /><br />The next two sessions were Khyaal performances, held sequentially in our last evening in Lahore. They were kindly arranged by the Lahore Music Forum at the premises of Hast o Neest, Lahore, a center for learning and preservation of Sufi heritage.<br /><br /><i><b>Ustaad Mubarak Ali Khan</b></i> ranks among the senior generation of Pakistani khyaal vocalists. Trained under his uncle, Ustaad Ghazanfar Ali Khan and considering Ustaad Amir Khan of Indore his ‘roohani’ ustaad or inspiration, Khansaheb blends the colorful musical style of the Punjab with the rigor inspired by Ustaad Amir Khan.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;">An old master — Ustaad
Mubarak Ali Khan KMF/Hast o Neest Mehfil</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;"><i>Photo
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">At the LMF Session, Ustaad Mubarak Ali chose a particularly delightful set of Raagas — Shudh Kalyan, Shahana Kanara and Maru Behag — rendered in his mellifluous voice with a mastery that only age can attain. He concluded his recital with a Thumree in Pahari. A particularly amusing part of the performance was his instructional asides to two members of the audience, spirited young scions of leading singers of the Lahore/Punjab classical music scene, gently but meaningfully showing them that he could teach them a thing or two when it came to singing…</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>Ahmad Raza</b></i> is a budding Khyaal singer, who lives in Khanpur in Southern Punjab, and drove up to Lahore for this performance. Ahmad is the grandson of Ustaad Hussain Bukhsh Dhaadi, a disciple of Ustaad Ashiq Ali Khan.<br /><br />Having received initial guidance from his father, Sakhawat Hussain, Ahmad is presently being trained under the watchful eye of Ustaad Bade Fateh Ali Khan of Patiala and Gwalior gharana’s Ustaad Fateh Ali Khan. This makes Ahmad Raza unique, embodying two of the greatest traditions in North Indian Khyaal, those of Gwalior and Patiala. On this evening, he chose to sing a 57 minute Raaga Bhopali. The complexity and confidence of his performance belies the singer’s youth. Here is a young master in the making, able to hold his own amongst the leading Khyaal singers of the subcontinent.</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;">…And
a young master in the making—Ahmad Raza at the LMF/Hast o Neest Mehfil.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;"><i>Photo Courtesy Arif Ali Khan</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Finally, while in Lahore, we had the pleasure of a chance meeting with <i><b>Ustaad Naseer ud<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>din Sami</b></i>. Ustaad Naseer ud din is also from the family of the Qawwal Bachchay, and is nephew and son-in-law of Munshi Raziuddin Ahmad Khan, who was his main Ustaad. In earlier years, Ustaad Naseer ud din sang Qawwali with the Manzoor Niazi Qawwal group and later with Munshi Raziuddin but decided to pursue his passion for Khyaal. His musical training and single-minded devotion has elevated him in stature to one of the most respected Khyaal singers in the subcontinent, a just recognition of his effort and all the difficulties he encountered in his musical journey. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;">A
fountainhead of knowledge—Ustaad Naseer ud din Sami.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 8.0pt;"><i>Photo Courtesy Musab bin Noor</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ustaad Naseer was kind enough to devote some three hours to a conversation that reflects his gentle intensity as he talks of the roots of the great North Indian musical traditions of Dhurpad, Qawwali and Khyaal. The discussion and its propagation would be of great educational value for those with a passion for Indo Pakistani classical music.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b>So where do we go from here?</b></span><br /><br />The journey was filmed on three or four cameras used for each session, yielding some 100 hours of raw documentary footage of music and conversation.<br /><br />We propose to produce a series of nine volumes of international class DVDs devoted to the Dream Journey. Each DVD would be about 90 minutes in length. One DVD would be a synthesis, presenting highlights of each performance and the conversation with Ustaad Naseer ud Din. The other eight would be devoted to the individual artists.<br /><br />All this translates into production financing for the documentary that far exceeds the voluntary financial contributions that we have devoted to the project thus far.<br /><br />We are intentionally seeking philanthropic, rather than commercial, financial support so that we can retain the freedom to circulate and use the material in the widest public sphere, without restrictions as to proprietary ownership, and without commercial benefit to the producers and director.<br /><br />Sponsors/co-sponsors will be acknowledged in the credits of the final documentary and will have the right of first use at the launch of the final product. — <i><b>Asif Hasnain</b></i>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />(1) Vaqar Ahmed in Karachi, Arif Ali Khan in Montreal, Zain Mujtaba in Toronto, Musab bin Nur on medical duty in the North of Pakistan, and Yours Sincerely<span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span> </span></span></div>
bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-30791161640878374902012-09-21T10:15:00.001-04:002013-09-02T00:55:52.761-04:00A Look into the Past by Professor Abdul Halim<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Professor Abdul Halim (1905-1972), Ph.D., was a distinguished historian and musicologist. He was a Reader at the Aligarh Muslim University and later Professor and Head at the Department of History, University of Dhaka. He specialized in the history of medieval Sultanate India. His scholarly output included several monographs on the historical development of Indian classical music. The monograph reproduced below was published under the title <i>Muslim Contribution to The Development of North Indian Music, </i>in The Muslim Year Book of India, Bombay, 1948-1949, pp. 107-21.</div>
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"<i>I cannot sufficiently describe the wonderful power of this <span class="il">talisman</span> of knowledge (music). It sometimes causes the beautiful creatures of the harem of the heart to shine forth on the tongue, and sometimes appears in solemn strains by means of the hand and the chord. The melodies then enter through the window of the ear and return to their former seat, the heart, bringing with them thousands of presents. The hearers, according to their insight, are moved to sorrow or to joy. Music is thus of use to those who have renounced the world and to such as still cling to it.</i>" — ABUL FAZL, Ain-i-Akbari, Blochmann, Vol. I, 680.</div>
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WHEN the Muslims came to India as conquerors, they brought with them a musical system which did not differ much from the one prevailing in India. It is true that the Indian system was very highly developed and scientific, quite at par with the other exact sciences which the Indians cultivated. But it is a fact that many Persian airs bore close resemblance to their Indian counterparts, such as Shu'ba-i-Mukhalif corresponding with Ramkali, 'Eraq with Bhairaon, Dar-i- Israr with Purba and Malwa, Maghlub with Bibhas, and so on (1). This is but one more proof that culturally the Muslim conquerors of India had many things in common with the Indians.</div>
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But there were differences too. The Muslims did not attach any spiritual sanctity to music either in its origin, or in its utility or in its power. With the Muslims music was a means to joy and ecstasy, an instrument to enliven the senses. Music with them was purely a secular art. They did not regard it, as the Indians did, as an aid to devotion or devotion itself. Nay, something more. The Muslims came to India with a variety of Perso-Arab musical instruments, such as the Rubab, Chang (harp), Ghichak, Tambura, Shahrud (2), Qanun (dulcimer), 'Ud, Nay (flute), Naqqara and Dhol, to add to the Indian Vina, Sarinda (3), Magaudhi (4), the Bansri. The Muslims adopted the Indian musical system as they settled and acclimatised themselves in the land and enriched it by the introduction of new styles of singing, by adding new airs to the existing stock and inventing and perfecting musical instruments or remodelling them to the Indian environments. The Muslims brought music as an insignia of royalty. The practice of playing music, the naubat, at stated hours of the day and night, in the palace-gates of kings and privileged noblemen — a practice which still subsists in many of the Indian states — was introduced by the Muslims.</div>
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It appears from the historical sources that the first attempt towards the assimilation of Indian music was made by the Muslims during the reign of Sultan Alauddin Khilji (1296-1316). It was during this reign that as the result of the conquest of the Hindu states of the Deccan, a large number of musicians and instrument players had been forced to seek the patronage of the Sultan of Delhi. Amir Khusrau, the poet-laureate of Alauddin, who had the unique fortune of serving seven successive kings of Delhi, was also an accomplished musician. The story that Amir Khusrau was given a challenge by Nayak Gopal, a Tellingana musician, whose palanquin was carried by two thousand of his disciples (5), to sing in the king's open Darbar, is recorded in every treatise on Indian music. The versatile Khusrau not daring to accept the challenge extempore, hid himself for a week behind the throne of the king, as Nayak Gopal gave his performance daily. On the eight day, Khusrau emerged from his refuge, with Samat and Niaz, two of his disciples, and sang in faultless imitation of Gopal's style, some Perso-Arabic modes — a Qawl for each ones of Gopal's 'geet,' in full accompaniment of 'tan' and 'tal' (melody and metre); a Naqsh for each one of his 'Man,' Tilana and Nigar for each one of his scansion; Tarana for his 'Sut' and Basit for his "Chhand." And after Nayak Gopal had been dumb confounded, he set to music some of his own composition and earned the applause of everybody assembled at court. Amir Khusrau acquired such a mastery over Indian music that he is credited to have invented at least eleven new airs or Rags, many of which are popular even today, and earned the well-deserved title of Nayak (6), which is the highest honour conferable on a musician. Rags are Sazgiri, Yaman, Ush-shaq, Mu'afiq, Ghanam, Ghara, Sanam, and Firudast (7). Khusrau is said to have substituted the Dholak for Pakhawaj (8), and introduced new 'tals' or meters (time-beat), such as Khamsa, Sawari, Firudast, Pahlwan, Jat, Poshtu, Ara, Chutal, Qawali, Jald Titala, Jhumra and Sul-Fakhta (9). Some even think that Khusrau was the inventor of the sitar. Though there has been a tendency in the past to make Amir Khusrau the hero of every invention, the debt that Indian music owes to Amir Khusrau can never be over-estimated. He sowed the seed which eventually fructified in the blending of Indian and Perso-Arab systems into a homogeneous form, the Indian classical music.</div>
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The fifteenth century ushers in a very brilliant epoch in the history of Indian music. Its revival was caused by the patronage of kings, reform or introduction of new style by Raja Mansingh Tonwar of Gwalior and lastly by musicians and bards of the Bhakti cult.</div>
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The patronage of the Muslim kings, who did not care what the doctors of religion said about the legality of music, converted this art into a common heritage of saints and scholars, scamps and scoundrels. Sultan Zain-ul-'Abedin (1416-1467 A.D), King of Kashmir was an admirer of this art to such an extent, that he ordered the decoration of musical instruments like the Rubab, and Bin (Vina) in gold. At his instance the Poet-musician Ludi Bhatt wrote a book on Music which was named Mamak (Ganak?) (10). He was famed as lover of music to such an extent that when Dungar Sen, Raja of Gwalior, heard of his tastes, he sent two or three authentic books on music, and his son Raja Kirat Singh too continued this practice after the death of his father (11). Husain Shah Sharqi, the last king of Jaunpur (A.D. 1457 accession), as a past master in the art, and he is universally regarded as the founder of the Khiyal School of Indian music, which, however, did not become popular till the time of the later Moghals. Husain Shah was an inventive genius and many classical airs owe their origin to him. "He was a matchless expert," says an historian, "His reputation in life time had spread to the four corners of India. He did not regard any body his equal. His inventions include twelve Shyams (Gaur Shyam, Malharshyam, Bhupal Shyam, etc.), four Todis of which Jaunpuri or Husaini Todi is so well-known, one Asawari known as Jaunpuri and the famous Hussaini Kanara. It has been asserted by the author of a treatise on music that Husain Shah introduced Jangla as an air in Indian music, derived from Zangula, a Persian air (12).</div>
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Sultan Sikandar Lodi (1489-1523), the second ruler of the Lodi dynasty, otherwise a very orthodox ruler who would not budge an inch from the canon law, and a great iconoclast, was a great lover of music and listened to it defying the ban of his own legists. He evaded the law by making singers and instrument players display their art in the camps of his two noblemen, Syed Ruhulla and Syed Ibn Rasul, which were close to him (13). The musical assemblies began generally after three hours of the night. The Sultan had four slave boys. One to play on the Chung, a second on Qanun, third on Tanpura and the fourth on the Bin. In addition to these there were ten Shahnai players. His favourite Rags were Maligaura, Kalyan, Kanra (renamed Darbari by Akbar), and Husaini Kanra.</div>
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The provincial courts did not lag behind in patronage. Baz Bahadur, the last King of Malwa, and his favourite consort Rupmati were accomplished musicians. Songs composed by Rupmati are still sung by women, engaged in grinding corn in the Malwa region. Bahadur Shah, the King of Gujerat (1526 to 1537), who was an accomplished musician, drew to his Court Nayak Bakhshu, the famous musician of the Gwalior Durbar since the days of Raja Mansingh. After the conquest of Gwalior by Sultan Ibrahim Lodi, Nayak Bakhshu went to Gujerat, in the Court of Bahadur Shah. Bakhshu possessed a rich and resonant voice comparable to two men singing together and an inaccessible pitch. It was during his stay in Ahmedabad that Nayak Bakhshu invented a Todi which he called Bahaduri Todi after the name of his patron, and a Kanra known as Nayaki Kanra and a Kalyan named Nayaki Kalyan. It is stated in Mirat-i- Sikandari that Nayak Baiju too was one of the artists of the Court of Bahadur Shah, and while captured by Moghul soldiers on a day of general slaughter following the conquest of Gujerat by Emperor Humayun, he pleased the Emperor by the recital of a song in Persian (14) to such an extent that the Emperor in pursuance of a favour asked for by the Nayak, stopped the carnage. A musician of the name of Nayak Gopal was also in the service of Bahadur Shah. He was a disciple of Nayak Baiju and even excelled his teacher, and was recipient of honours reserved for the great Nayak. It is stated on very reliable authority (15) that the people of Ahmedabad had become so music-minded during the reign of Sultan Mahmud III of Gujerat (accession 1537 A.D.), the last king of the line, that music and singing were heard in every house, and in all the streets and bazars.</div>
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The service of the Rajas of Gwalior to the cause of music, especially of Raja Mansingh Tonwar (1486-1517) stands as a category by itself. Due to the impact of Persian music and inventions of new modes of singing, the Indian Rags and Raginis were in a very fluid condition so that no body knew what the actual form of a particular air was. To combat this confusion, he sought the assistance of the leading musicians of the time. He called a commission consisting of Nayak Bakhshu, Nayak Bhannu, and Nayak Pande, all Tellingana musicians, which body after discussions with the Raja's own musicians, Nayak Mahmud, Nayak Karan and Nayak Lohang, compiled a treatise on Indian music, which was named Man Kautuhal (the Curiosity of Raja Man) after the name of the Raja. In this treatise, the Rags and Raginis were classified and each was given a standard form. The names of Rags and Raginis given in Rag Darpan which claims to be Persian translation of Man Kautuhal, contains almost all the Rags and Raginis invented by the Muslim musicians of India (16). Raja Mansingh is credited to have given Dhrupad its present form. It is stated on authority that music so long consisted of "geet," "Ghhand" and "Man" chanted in the Sanskrit language. Man Singh caused many Dhrupads to be compiled in Hindi, and thus gave Dhrupad composition its four-fold character (with its Asthai, Antara, Sanchari and Abhog), a form which it assumes to-date. Man Singh's labours resulted in the separation of the North Indian from the Karnatic (South Indian) music. It also laid the foundation of the step which gave Gwalior the primacy as a centre of music, for centuries to come. It will not be out of place to mention that Mriga Naina (the deer-eyed), Raja Man's consort was also an accomplished musician.</div>
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Muslim mystics of India of the Chishti Order, and the Bhakt poets and musicians of the 15th and 16th centuries, contributed a great deal to the development of music. As music without instruments was allowed in the assemblies of the Chishti mystics, as a means of rousing ecstasy, their monasteries were attended by Qawl singers. Samat and Niaz, the two disciples of Amir Khusrau, were attached to the monastery of Hazrat Nizamuddin. It is stated that whatever song was sung in the monastery of the Shaikh, was heard the next day in every street or lane of Delhi. Similarly, Bhakt musicians like Mira Bai (wife of Raja Bhoj, son of Rana Kumbh of Mewar) , Baba Ramdas, Surdas, Swami Hari Das, made wide use of music for the propagation of their cult. </div>
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<b>THE MOGHULS</b></div>
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With the advent of the Moghuls music enters into a new phase. They brought with them not only new blood but a polished culture of the cities of Central Asia, in its best form since their sack and devastation by the mighty hordes of Changiz and his descendants. Babar, the founder of the Moghul dynasty in India, that embodiment of culture and refinement of Central Asia, was not only an expert musician but a fine critic of the art. While recording the performances of the musicians and instrument players of the Court of Sultan Husain Mirza of Samarqand, he critically measures their accomplishments, their merits and demerits and their contribution as inventors. Thus he speaks of Banai of Herat as a composer and inventor (17), Sher 'Ali Beg as the founder of a new style of singing, and Khwajah 'Abdullah Marwarid as a clever player of Qanun, who had added three strings to the instrument. He mentions Shaikh Nai as a player of flute and guitar and Shah Quli as Ghichak player. A very humorous reference is contained in the Memoirs (18) of Husain 'Udi (lutanist) being beaten once by Shaibani Khan the Uzbeg chief, whom Babar loathed and detested, for his (musician's) affectations, and Babar adds that "this was one good deed that Shaibani Khan did in his days." Babar ranks Ghulam Shadi as a composer of ordinary merit, Ghulam Azoo as composer of few productions but all of exquisite taste. In a similar way, Babar scans the merits and demerits of the musicians in the party given by Muzaffar Mirza. Hafiz Mirza, Jalaluddin Mahmud the flute player, Mir Jan Samarqandi (who sang in a loud and harsh voice), Shadi Bacheh the harpist (Chang player), Yusuf 'Ali Gokaltash, all find place in his diary. It is indeed very strange that Babar does not mention about music and musicians, Indian or Trans-Oxianian, after his conquest of India. Perhaps military engagements stood in the way of his giving vent to this hobby. Nor do we know much of Humayun's tastes in this art till after the restoration. Fortunately, the currency of a Dhrupad which a court musician composed and sang on the occasion of Akbar's coronation, stands as a good testimony that music was not dethroned from the Court of the Great Moghuls, after their advent in India.</div>
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Music flourished under the patronage of the Suri kings. Islam Shah, son and successor of Sher Shah, was a generous patron of this art. The most famous musicians of his Court were Mubaris Khan, Baba Ramdas and Mahapater, the last of whom having accepted Akbar's service, was sent as an ambassador to Mukand Deo, the King of Orissa. Sikander Sur was a lover of this art and sent a huge present to Tansen, then serving in the Court of Raja Ramchand Bhatt (Riwa), to come to his Court. (19) 'Adil Shah Sur II, wrote a book on music in Hindi (20).</div>
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<b>AKBAR (1556-1603)</b></div>
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Due to Akbar's lavish patronage, his reign constitutes a landmark in the history of music. Abul Fazl gives a long list of musicians and instrument players, about thirty-eight in number. The principal artists came from Gwalior, Mesher, Tabriz and Kashmir. His reign is an important link in the absorption of the Indian and Iranian systems into one whole. "His Majesty," says Abul Fazl, "pays much attention to music, and is the patron of all who practise this enchanting art. There are numerous musicians at court, Hindus, Iranis, Turanis, Kashmiris, both men and women. The court musicians are arranged in seven divisions, one for each day of the week." About Mian Tansen, the foremost of the court-musicians writes, "A singer like him has not been in India for the last two thousand years." It was with a heavy heart that Raja Ramchand of Riwa allowed Tansen to go to Akbar's Court at Agra, at the latter's request, and when Tansen gave his first performance, Akbar gave him a present of two lakhs of rupees. Akbar had a special liking for Kanra which he re-named Darbari. A disciple of Swami Haridas of Brindaban, Tansen seems to have accepted Islam after entering Akbar's service (21). Tansen is the inventor of a Malhar, a Sarang and a Todi which are known as Mian ki Malhar, Mian ki Sarang and Mian ki Todi, respectively and retain their popularity in classical music. Baba Ramdas came from Lucknow (22) , and entered the service of Bairam Khan Khanan, after the fall of the Sur Dynasty. He was an eminent Dhrupadist and a composer and was looked upon "as second to Mian Tansen." Baz Bahadur, King of Malwa who accepted Akbar's service and was subsequently promised to a mansab of two thousand, "was a singer without rival" (23). The Gawlior School was represented by Subhan Khan, Sri Gyan Khan, Bichitr Khan son of Subhan Khan, Sarod Khan, Mian Lal, Tan-tarang Khan son of Mian Tansen, Nayak Charju (inventor of Charju ki Malhar) — all singers and Bir-mandal Khan, a player on Sur-mandal (Qanun), and Sahib Khan Binkar. Others who represented the Indian School outside Gwalior were Mahmud Khan Dhari (24), Daud Khan Dhari, Mulla Ishq Dhari, Rahmatullah Khan brother of Mulla Ishaq, a singer, Rangsen of Agra, and the blind musician Surdas son of Baba Ramdas and Purbin Khan Binkar. The foreign school to which almost all the instrument players belonged, consisted of Ustad Dost of Meshad, a Nai (flute) player, Shaikh Dawan of Khurasan, a performer on the Karna and his newphew Pir Zade, a singer and chanter, Mir Syed Ali of Mehshad, and Bairam Quli of Herat players of Ghichak, Ustad Yusuf of Herat, Ustad Mohammed Husain, Ustad Hashim of Meshad and Ustad Mohammed Amin, all Tamburinists, Tash Beg of Qipchaq, a player on the Qabuz, and Ustad Shah Mohammad, player on the Surnai.</div>
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During Akbar's reign, vocal music continued to be of the Dhurpad style. Vocal music was mainly represented by Indian musicians whereas instrument playing was almost monopolised by foreigners. It will not be out of place to mention that the division of Akbar's musicians into seven teams, one team for each day, was a very rational and convenient arrangement. It spared the musicians the ordeal of waiting indefinitely in an expectant mood for the imperial order to begin music, and in case of lesser talents the chance of displaying their talents under the old arrangement would not have come at all.</div>
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<b>JAHANGIR (1603-1628)</b></div>
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Jahangir, like his father, was a lover of nature and a critic and admirer of art, and was very attentive to musicians. In his Memoirs, he speaks of Mian Lal, a musician (<i>vide</i> list of Akbar's musicians) who died in the third year of his reign. Hafiz Nad Ali is mentioned as a singer who Jahangir granted the entire present made by officials and visitors on the next day. The great Tansen died in the thirteenth year of his reign (25), and his son Bilas Khan, the inventor of the Bilas Khan Todi, occupied his father's place at the Mughal Court. A Christian named Zulqaran, is known to have been a Dhurpadist, and an expert in the art of music. He was initiated to it by Mian Aqil, a disciple of Mian Tansen. Mian Aqil was a Faujdar and Amin of Sambhar (26).</div>
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<b>AURANGZEB (1658-1707)</b></div>
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From his accession to the throne till the tenth year of his reign, Aurangzeb was just an ordinary ruler of India, with a good taste and partiality towards music. Musicians and instrument players had led his coronation procession starting from Khizrabad. "As he entered the hall of public audience, and mounted the throne, the imperial band was in attendance. The musicians began their song and nautch girls their dances." (28) He delighted to listen to singers and instrument players; according to Khafi Khan, he understood music well. But in 1688, "on account of the restraint and self-denial, and observance of the tenets of the great Imam Shafei, he entirely abstained from the amusement. If any singer or any musician becomes ashamed of his calling, he makes an allowance or grants him land for his maintenance." (29) The musicians being deprived of royal patronage, had a very bad time all throughout his reign. The story of their taking a mock funeral of 'music,' and passing with all solemnity beside the Darshan balcony of the Emperor, the Emperor's interrogation and exhortation to bury it deep, so that no sound or cry might arise from it, is too well. Deprived of their means of living, some took to recording their knowledge, in their enforced idleness, in black and white. The Aligarh Muslim University possesses a voluminous book on the science of music entitled Naghmatul Israr written by one Mir Ahmad, son of Mirza Mohammed in 1688 A.D.</div>
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<b>LATER MOGHULS</b></div>
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Though the 18th century is the golden age in the history of music, our information about the names of musicians or the trend of its development is scanty. But from the time of Shahjahan a refinement of taste is noticeable not only in architecture, painting and calligraphy but also in music. Due to the loss of Balkh Badakhshan and Qandhar, the influx of foreign musicians to India ceased. Indian music became more decorous in conformity with the taste of the princes and the nobles. And consequently Khiyal or ornate music came very much in vogue. These two classes having enough leisure now that conquests had ceased, turned their attention more towards music and began to take as much interest in it as they once had taken in war and other vigorous outdoor exercises. Bahadur Shah (1707-12) who earned for himself the sobriquet of Shah-i-bi-Khabr (the heedless king), through his habit of sitting awake the whole night and some time sleeping till mid-day, was a generous patron of music and many artists of great accomplishments attended his musical assemblies. Of his court musicians, the name of Niamat Khan, son of Narmul Khan (30), a great composer of Dhrupad and Khiyal and Tarana and other songs (probably Holi and Sadra too) "which he could perform with great delicacy, beauty and colourfulness," occupies the first place. This Niamat Khan composed innumerable songs with the assistance of Niazi Qawwal and Lala Bangali, before he entered the service of Jahandar Shah and subsequently of Mohammed Shah (1719-48). Niamat Khan who appears to have assumed the pen-name of Sadarang (ever-joyous) composed many Khiyals in Emperor Mohammed Shah's name. It must be remembered that Mohammed Shah himself was a musician and at least a few of the Khiyals and Taranas had been composed by him. Nearly seventy per cent. of the standard Khiyals sung today, were either composed by Sadarang or Mohammed Shah Piya-Sada-Rangiley, the names being put to the songs either at the beginning or at the end. Among the musicians who were responsible for giving a name and fame to the reign were Shaikh Muinuddin, grand-son of Sher Mohammed (a musician of Shahjahan's Court), described as an ornate Khiyalist (31) and Firuz Khan, a disciple and son-in-law of Niamat Khan, "who excelled his teacher," and was a peerless producer of art and beauty. He possessed great knack in the composition of Dhrupad, Tarana and Khiyal (32). After the break up of the Moghul Empire, Delhi ceased to remain the centre of gravity in Indian politics. Artists and musicians took refuge in the provincial courts, or in the courts of the Mahratta rulers, the latter sparing no pains in patronising this art. And it is on account of this that high class music is still cultivated by them more widely than by any people of north or northwestern India. They took their music from Moghuls as they took their manners, court etiquette, dress and system of government. Till 1857, Lucknow under its Nawab Wazirs, and almost simultaneously, Rampur sprang into great importance as centres of music in northern India. It was during the reign of Asaf-ud-Daulah, that Mohammed Raza Khan of Patna, a nobleman of the court wrote his epoch-making Naghmat-i-Asifi, in 1813, after the name of his patron. Mohammed Raza's service to this art consists in his selecting 'suddh' notes to form the Bilawal scale and his selection of a few 'thats' or parent scales as the basis of the classification of the Indian Rags and Raginis. This scientific classification of Rags, gave north Indian music an exactness and a rigidity possessed so long by the south Indian music. Secondly this classification set at rest the age-long controversy as to what the exact form of a Rag was, or whether it was a Parent Rag, a Bharya Rag, a Putra Rag, a Kanya Rag and all other absurdities, for apart from the four different schools of classification, the exact form of a Rag was the subject of bitter controversy and a variation was always attributed by a musician to a particular teacher belonging to an old musician family who imparted him lesson in that way.</div>
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<b>PATRONAGE OF NAWABS</b></div>
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But social and moral life during the 19th century had degenerated to an appalling extent. The Indian people were passive spectators in the process which gave one strip of the country after another to the English. The nobles acquired vice which had once been the monopoly of the Romans or the Spaniards, during the decadent period of their national existence. The commonalty had become complacent onlookers. Under such conditions, when the nobles had no outlet to give vent to their restless energy and had taken to regaling themselves in unworthy pastimes such as drinking, listening to the music of songstresses, reclining on a huge pillow (and the English residents spared no pains to cultivate such qualities in their princely wards) or in gambling or cock-fighting, their taste for music could not but degenerate. Khiyal which required considerable exertion and exactitude, made less appeal to their senses not to speak of the acrobatic and mathematical music embodied in Dhrupad. A music which made an appeal to sensual emotions suited their temperament better. Under this atmosphere, two different forms of light music took their origin. Thumri and Tappa both springing from the provincial court of Lucknow. Thumri may very conveniently be classified as love music because apart from making an appeal to the senses, by harping on notes, or by the repetition of a word or syllable in scores of beautiful settings, its subject-matter consists of the feeling between the lover and the beloved. It differs from the Khiyal, in the sense that, whereas in the Khiyal love is symbolic and allegorical, in Thumri it is actual and (33) real. Tappa was invented by Shori, a court musician of Lucknow. Its origin is traced to the song of the camel drivers of the Punjab, its rhythm being determined by the pace of the camel. Some even trace its antiquity to Tartar-Mongol cameleers. Shori's contribution consisted in converting an old out-landish popular mode into a civilised form of music. But it must be remembered that Thumri and Tappa are regarded as Dhuns or tunes of music and do not conform to the actual rules of grammar as rigidly as Dhrupad and Khiyal do. Dhrupad and Khiyal singing did not get out of vogue. They existed side by side but suffered in competition with their more popular rivals, just enumerated. Nawab Wajid Ali, the last Nawab of Oudh (1857), was an expert in music. Those who heard Ustad Fayyaz Husain Khan remember how tenderly he touched his audience when he sang the Bhairabi composed and sung by Wajid Ali Shah on the eve of his leaving his beloved Lucknow for Matiaburj (Calcutta), in the All-India Music Conference, held in Lucknow in 1926. Wajid Ali Shah apart from popularising the stage, and converting Lucknow into the Vienna of India, wrote a book on music, which he named "Najo," published through the Sultani Press, Lucknow. The book embodies a beautiful collection of Khiyals and Dhrupads sung by the master musicians of the court.</div>
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On the whole the cause of music during the 19th century received a violent set-back, due to the disappearance of the Moghul nobility, more so during the post-Mutiny period, and their substitution by English civilians none of whom displayed any interest in this art. Apart from the parsimony of the musicians who treasured their knowledge like the wealth of robbers, the cause of music suffered the greatest blow on account of the absence of a recognised system of notation. This came of a necessity and out of contact with the foreigners. Its originator was, I suppose, Maharaja Saurindra Nath Tagore of Calcutta. Its evolution is bringing forgotten modes into light and insuring them against further oblivion.</div>
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During the 19th century, till to-date, Rampur, thanks to the interest taken in it by a long list of distinguished rulers, has developed into the most important centre of North Indian music, and a haven for talents. Its services to this can never be over-estimated. This Court has produced a long list of musicians of high rank — Nawab Kalbe Ali Khan, Shahzada Saadat Ali Khan, Nawab Hamid Ali Khan, and the present ruler, His Highness Raza Ali Khan, is a past master in the art who has written a book of classical songs and I am informed, he is one of the best connoisseurs of the art of Nrit (dancing). As in the present so in the past Wazir Khan Binkar, Piyare Sahib Dhrupadiya, Musta Khan Khiyali, Ali Raza Khan singer of Qawl and Qalbana, Fida Husain Sarodi, Bindha Din, the dancer and composer, shed lustre to this Court. The Durbar of Rampur saved this art at a very critical period in the history of Northern India. The Court maintains at present, Ustad Mushtaq Husain Khan, a Khiyali; Sadiq Ali Khan Binkar; Ahmad Jan Thirakwa, a gifted Tabla player, in addition to patronising dance-experts like Achhan, of the family of Bindha Din.</div>
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<b>PRESENT TALENTS</b></div>
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Among the musicians of the past and the present century, the names of Mohammed Ali Khan of Jaipur (who is well- known under his poetic name of Har-Rang in many current songs), and the late Pandit V. N. Bhatkhande of Bombay, deserve special mention. In addition to Mohammed Ali Khan being a Dhrupadist, who figures so luminously in Raja Nawab Ali Khan's Muarif-ul- Naghmat, Book II, he was a composer and I suppose the preceptor of Pandit Bhatkhande and the Pandit ji has acknowledged the debt he owes to Har-Rang in many of his Lakhshan Geets (definitive songs). Raja Nawab Ali Khan in his Muarif-ul-Naghmat, Vol. II, has perpetuated the memories of Nawab Chhamman Sahib of Lucknow, Abban Khan of Saharanpur, Nazir Khan of Moradabad, Amir Khan of Lucknow, Mohammed Husain Khan of Lucknow and Raza Husain Khan by recording their Dhrupads with notation. It is in itself a meritorious service, since many of the Rags illustrated there are difficult and rare at the same time. In that very collection more than half of the songs were sung by Mohammed Ali Khan of Jaipur. To this I may add the name of Nawab Jani Sahib of Lucknow who was a musician and a theorist. Zuhra Bai of Agra was a very talented artist belonging to the generation just passed. But never did Indian music owe to one man as it does to Pandit Bhatkhande. By his researches and speeches, publications and teachings he has given to North Indian music the form which is its own at present. It was due to the labours of Bhatkhande that the Rags of Indian music were scientifically arranged under ten 'Thats' (Major Scales) proposed by Raza Khan in his Naghmat-i- Asifi. He dedicated his life to the service of music. His monumental achievements consist in his very elaborate and authentic books on the subject. His Lakhshan Geet is in fact the modern grammar of classical music. It was due to his untiring efforts that music in India is being resuscitated and the Panditji himself lived to see the success of the All-India Music Conference arranged by him at Baroda (1916) and Lucknow (1926).</div>
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Musicians are very fat-bellied people. They flourish at the expense of the rich. At the present time music is undergoing a process of revival through various methods unconnected with the patronage of the princes and the aristocracy.</div>
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In the first place the All-India Music Conference at Baroda and Lucknow together with their branch organisations, have been creating public interest in music, and helping in the establishment of contacts and exchange of views between musicians, and fostering, at the same time, a healthy competitive spirit.</div>
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Another agency in its revival and in fact the one providing it with a back-bone is the appearance of a number of authentic books in local languages, on the theory and practice of music. Such are Lakhshan Sangit, Sangit Paddhati of which the first six volumes have appeared, two volumes of Raja Nawab Ali's Muarif-ul-Naghmat and a number of other books of the same type with notation.</div>
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A third instrument regenerating music is the establishment of a large number of colleges and schools of music, as in Gwalior and as the Marris Music College (soon to be raised to the status of Bhatkhande University) of Lucknow. The Allahabad University has established a Faculty of Music, which as far as I am aware, has been awarding diplomas and degrees in music. In addition to these, a number of Universities and Examination Boards have included music as an optional subject up to the Intermediate stage. Next, the importance of gramophone records in prolonging the life of a song sung by a musician in a particular style should not be overlooked.</div>
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But none of the above agencies have exercised such a powerful effect as the radio stations in the country, of which Delhi, Bombay and Lucknow are well-known for their good music programmes. These have been helping to make the Indian public music-minded and have at the same time saved musicians from ruin. Singing and playing on instruments are paying professions and have become a noble one too if practised without vice.</div>
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A chapter on music will remain incomplete without an enumeration of the living musicians and instrument players. Ustad Fayyaz Husain Khan, now at Bombay (formerly state musician of the Baroda Darbar, and recipient of the title Aftba-i-Musiqi) is acknowledged as the greatest Khiyalist in north and north-western India. He has disciples in Pandit Krishan Rao Ratanjhankar, Principal, Marris College of Hindustani Music and Vilayat Husain Khan of Bombay. Asad Ali, and Latafat Husain, are two of his very promising disciples. Abdul Wahid Khan of Lahore and Allahdiya Khan of Kolhapur, and Mohammed Khan of Raigarh and Amir Khan, at present of Delhi, are top-ranking Khiyalists. Shamshad Bai of Delhi is a vigorous Khiyalist among women. The late Khan Sahib Abdul Karim's School is represented by Raushan Ara of Bombay who is a very good artist. Pandit Krishna Rao, Principal, Shankar Gandharb Vidyalaya, Gwalior, represents the style of the family of Haddu Khan and Hassu Khan of Gwalior.</div>
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Karamat Ali Khan of Jaipur, is a very talented Dhrupadist, now very old. Others of the Dhrupad style are Tasadduq Husain Khan of Agra, Mubarik Ali Khan of the Punjab, Rahimuddin Khan and Nasiruddin Khan, sons of Allabande Khan of Indore. Rahimuddin Khan represents a Dhrupad rarely heard elsewhere in northern India, a type almost unique in its pristine purity and least influenced by Mohammedan contact. Haidar Husain of Jaipur, at present in the All-India Radio, Delhi, Yusuf Ali Khan of Lucknow, Wahid Khan and Vilayat Khan, brother and son respectively of the late Inayat Khan of Calcutta (originally belonged to Aligarh) and Mushtaq Husain of Calcutta are the living 'Sitarists' of talent.</div>
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Among the Sarodiyas, the name of Alauddin Khan, at present Maihar State musician deserves the first mention. He is a very talented artist with a store-house of knowledge, an expert, and the inventor of a number of instruments whose idea can be formed by one who has heard the Maihar State Band at play. Hafiz Ali Khan Sarodi, at present in Gwalior is also a first class artist with the Sarod. Both Alauddin and Hafiz Ali are disciples of Wazir Khan of Rampur.</div>
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Shahnai and Bin players are becoming fewer and fewer day by day. These are difficult instruments, no doubt. Babu Khan of Baroda and Bismilla Khan of Benares (disciples of Talim Husain of Benares) are the only two Shahnai players, while to my knowledge, Sadiq Ali Khan of Rampur is the only Bin player of top rank. Alauddin's son, Ali Akbar Khan is giving promise of a good artist with the Sarod.</div>
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Bandu Khan of Delhi is a very gifted Saringi player. Chhotey Khan of Calcutta is a good Saringiya. </div>
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Ahmad Jan Thirakwa and Mallang Khan of the Punjab are top-ranking Tabla players.</div>
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Atrauli in Aligarh District, U. P., has evolved a school of music of its own and a good many vocalist of high rank, belongs to this place or is disciple of this school.</div>
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But classical music has a lot to contend with its undesirable rival, Cinema Music. It is lowering public taste and doing a positive disservice to this age-consecrated art. And the Calcutta School is the worst sinner in this respect because the lead in the amalgamation of the Indian and European system had been taken by the Music School of that city with results more tragic than the Victoria Memorial in the realm of architecture.</div>
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<u>References:</u></div>
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(1) Qandhari-i-'Eraq corresponds with Malkaus and Purba, Nauruz with Lalit Pancham, Nishapur with Bilawal, Zangula-Chabargah with Asawari, Paid-i-Azal with Khat, Chabargah with Gujri, Ashiran with Jaltsri (?), Rihawi with Dhanasari, Zagula-Hijaj with Jait-i-Guari, Mubarqa-i-Karishma with Bihagra, Panjgah with Nat-Narain and Madhabi, Saghir with Kalyan, Bayat with Kanra, Gusha-i-Azam with Shuddh Todi: Vide Naghmat-ul-Israr by Mir Muhammad, M.U. Ms.</div>
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(2) The instrument Sarod is a corruption of Shahrud, an Arab stringed instrument: Vide Prof. Farmer's History of Arabian Music, frontispiece.</div>
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(3) The Muslims converted it into Saringi, which is the most perfect musical instrument of India.</div>
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(4) Emil Naumann, History of Music, Vol. I. 30.</div>
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(5) Rag Darpan. MU.Ms.</div>
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(6) One proficient in theory and practice of music.</div>
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(7) Firudast is a 'Tal'. A Rag of this name does not exist to my knowledge. </div>
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(8) Mridang, the most ancient timing instrument which is an essential part of Dhurpad singing.</div>
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(9) Vide Ma'dan-i-Musiqi by Karam Imam Khan.</div>
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(10) Nizamuddin Ahmad Bakshi, Tabaqat-i-Akbari, Bibliotheca Indica Series, Vol. III, 439.</div>
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(11) <i>Ibid</i> III, 440.</div>
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(12) Nishat Ara. A Manuscript on Music. Composed during the reign of Shah Jehan, in the library of Nawab Sadr Yar Jung, Habibganj, Aligarh.</div>
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(13) Abdullah. Tarikh-i-Daudi.</div>
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(14) (Dr. Haleem quotes a Persian couplet in this footnote.)</div>
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(15) Bayley's translation of Mirat-i-Sikandari in his History of Gujerat, 41.</div>
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(16) See my article "Some rare ragas in Indian Music" published in the "New Horizon" Allahabad, November 1945.</div>
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(17) Memoirs, King's Translation I,317, 323.</div>
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(18) Memoirs. King's Translation I, 317, 323.</div>
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(19) Ain-i-Akbari, I. Blochmann, 680.</div>
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(20) Ram Babu Saxena, History of Urdu Literature. p. 12.</div>
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(21) According to some historians e.g., Shahnawaz Khan, author of Mirati Aftab Numa, Tansen having been born through the blessings of Shaikh Muhammad Ghaus of Gwalior, his father brought him to the Shaikh when five years old. The Shaikh is said to have brought some chewed betels from his mouth and put them into the mouth of the boy, whereafter the father left him in the service of the Shaikh as an out-cast.</div>
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(22) Baudani, Ranking, II, 42.</div>
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(23) Ain, I, Blochmann, 681.</div>
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(24) That is, wandering musicians, a professional of lower rank than a musician who plays at the houses of well-to-do, very often un-invited.</div>
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(25) Roger, Memoirs of Jahangir I, 413.</div>
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(26) Shahnawaz Khan, Mirat-i-Aftab Numa, MU. Ms., 523.</div>
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(27) See my article "Music and Musicians of the Court of Shah Jahan." "Islamic Culture." Hyderabad Deccan. October 1945.</div>
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(28) Sarkar, Aurangzeb, II, 615.</div>
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(29) Khafi Khan.</div>
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(30) Mirat-i-Aftab Numa, MU. Ms., 526.</div>
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(31) Mirat-i-Aftab Numa, MU. Ms., 525.</div>
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(32) Mirat-i-Aftab Numa, MU. Ms., 526.</div>
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(33) E.g., Piya bin Nahi Awata Chain; Sanchi Kaho muse batiyan. </div>
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bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-30970541180921133572012-05-26T06:10:00.000-04:002015-05-03T23:10:49.026-04:00Shujaat Khan, 1983<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span lang="EN-GB">The Circumstance<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">January 4, 1983, New Delhi, India. That cold, crisp Delhi winter day was a pivotal one in my life, marking the culmination of a romance with Delhi as well as of an anticipation of a future as husband and family man. A bittersweet farewell to bachelorhood is something that most headstrong and adventurous young men experience and I suppose it was not different in my case.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">At the time, Delhi had yet to fall victim to the brash excesses of wealth spurred by economic liberalization. It had patina, endowed by an eternality that has formed the character of few cities of this world. The patina was not just limited to the city’s physical appearance. The people of Delhi, its pace of life, its collective intellect and accents reflected a relaxed, self-confident continuity. Most people in Delhi felt comfortable in their skins, whichever their walks of life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">This was the second trip I had undertaken to Delhi, the first being a year earlier when I had been overwhelmed by romance; a romance as much inspired by a woman as by enlivened family legends that had permeated an upbringing in Karachi in its—and my—formative years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Shujaat Khan. </span></div>
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(With backs to camera) In silver hair and black jacket, Syed Mehdi Hasnain; with black hair and silver sherwani, his son.<br />
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Raaga Shayam Kalyan / Qaul - Man Kunto Maula / Raagas Hameer & Bilawal</div>
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<b><span lang="EN-GB">Some Family Background (skip this if you wish)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">My paternal grandfather, Khan Bahadur Syed Ghulam Hasnain, had established himself in Delhi to pursue a career with the Government of British India. Thus, well before the Second World War, Delhi offered a second familial home in addition to the ancestral seat in Chhath Banur, in Patiala State. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Banur, Delhi and Simla—the summer capital of the British Indian Government to which my grandfather and his <i>kunba</i> (dependent extended family) migrated every summer—were my parents’ formative geographical and social triangulation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">To this cocktail was added Aligarh where my father, the eldest child, went to university. Both of my grandfathers and my father were alumni of the Aligarh Muslim University. My maternal grandfather was definitely the most colourful of the trio, as he was one of those known as the Aligarh Grandees, scions of the North Indian-Muslim elite of the early part of the twentieth century, to whom academic pursuits were a mere side show that interrupted the Good Life of their university days. My maternal grandfather had a formidable aesthetic sense and knowledge of poetry and music, all of which did not amount to much when it came to the business of life and managing worldly affairs. But that is another story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">10 Raisina Road, New Delhi, was the government residence allocated to my paternal grandfather, and this was the home where he nurtured his offspring and his elder brother’s grandchildren—my mother and her siblings. Being a widower who never remarried, his home and the children were tended, in earlier years, by the elder ladies from the extended family in Banur and later by my mother as the senior daughter-in-law. A feature of his home was that he regularly hosted some of Delhi’s most colourful and prominent personalities for evenings of bridge, music or general conviviality and elegant dining. Such was the rigour of his principles that he never touched the Golden Stuff despite it being served to his guests in ample amounts. My father and the brother immediately younger to him were altogether more colourful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">My mother and aunts were educated at Lady Irwin School and College to be groomed to perfect examples of cultured urban Indian womanhood according to the social norms of the day. They were chauffeured to school in my grandfather’s car by a liveried and starched attendant who maintained the vehicle in pristine condition and guarded the young women of the household with ferocity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">My mother’s younger brother, Mamu Jan, attended St. Stephen’s College. Among his closest chums was Mansoor Bukhari, son of legendary wit, diplomat and man of letters, Patras Bukhari, and nephew of the great broadcaster, Z. A. Bukhari. Uncle Mansoor joined the Pakistan Tobacco Company and later took over the EMI recording company in Karachi. Under his stewardship, in the late sixties and seventies, EMI preserved and released many gems of music by Pakistani artists. This was a work of love rather than profit, since the EMI releases of classical and semi-classical music enjoyed a pretty thin market. Pakistan owes him a debt of gratitude for his untiring and selfless efforts in preserving our musical heritage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Another not-so-notable college class fellow at St. Stephen’s was one Zia-ul-Haque who was commissioned in the army and, primarily due to a combination of good luck, sycophancy and cunning, ended up running the Pakistan Army and the country. Pakistan also has a lot to “thank” him for, albeit the gratitude is of not quite the same nature as our dues to Uncle Mansoor!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Music was very much in the air in Delhi, then as now. One of the regular musical fixtures at the Raisina Road house was Shamshad Bai, singer, paramour of one of my grandfather’s closest friends and grandmother of Saira Bano, an actress of considerable fame and Dilip Kumar’s wife. My mother and aunts were not allowed to be part of the audience in Shamshad’s mehfils, which were strictly male affairs, so they got great thrills from listening to her sing and observing her mesmerizing presence from behind latticed partitions established as a <i>purdah</i> [veil]. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">In addition to private mehfils, my grandfathers and father regularly attended music conferences that featured the likes of Ustaad Fayyaz Khan, Ustaad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan and other giants of the Indian classical scene of the interwar period.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">My parents were married in Delhi in 1942. My mother was 21 and my father 27. One of the first orders of duty for my mother was to organize my Phuppi’s <i>nikkah</i>, which was to be solemnized early in 1943. Phuppo was to be married to a young captain holding a commission in Probyn’s Horse, an elite cavalry regiment of the British Indian Army. The groom hailed from the UP and was closely related, by marital ties, to the Raja of Pirpur. The Pirpur family were to be hosted in Delhi for a week, for the nikkah<i>,</i> with my mother bearing the responsibility for catering to the finicky Pirpur protocols and culinary tastes. I am told that, despite her youth and being in the family way (she was carrying my elder brother), she showed herself to be an immaculate hostess, earning her the deepest respect in the Pirpur family. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">In the Pirpur entourage were two <i>mirasans</i>, Imam Bandi and her daughter, Hussain Bandi, who were brought to recite Phuppajan’s <i>sehra</i>. Hussain Bandi, familiarly known as Kajjan Begum, was a huge hit with the hosts, the men especially, who would sit her down and listen to her perform light classical all night long. She was summoned to Delhi a few months later to sing in celebration of the birth of my elder brother in 1943. At the occasion she vowed to my mother that she would sing at Bhaijan’s wedding, which she did some 30 years later in Karachi.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Phuppajan was a typical example of the “native” British Indian Army officer of the time. He was awarded the commission primarily due to his education, breeding, manners and elegance. At the time it was said that anyone could learn the art of war, but not too many could be officers and gentlemen. Shortly after the nuptials he departed for Iraq and then for Burma to participate in the British campaigns against the Axis<b><i>. </i></b>Phuppo’s sophistication and unbounded capacity for love endeared her to all those she encountered in Pirpur, Rampur and Bhopal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The Delhi of her youth was, to my mother’s vivid recollection, the epitome of genteel existence, of strong kinships, of firm bonds of friendship lasting for generations, of social openness, of gracious living. The mere mention of the names of familiar streets and localities caused her eyes to mist over. It was her Paradise Lost.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Recollection of this and more is what inspired the romance with Delhi.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b>Delhi—Prelude to the Concert<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">So here I was: a Pakistani by birth and culture; Indo-Pakistani by inheritance; connecting with a past thirty-six years after Partition had cleaved the two countries, creating unbridgeable fissures.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Delhi seemed so familiar, comfortable and…well…<i>enjoyable</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">It was decided that our marriage would be held in Delhi at an hotel not more than 500 meters from the Raisina Road house where my parents had been married and spent the early years. The choice of location was intentional, a symbolism signifying the surmounting of the ravages of time and political circumstance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">My father came for the wedding to Delhi. This was his first visit since 1947. Since I preceded my relatives on the trip, my soul brother Bilal Dallenbach accompanied him on the PIA flight from Karachi. Bilal came down from Zurich to bat as my best man. Bilal told me that as soon as the pilot announced that the flight had crossed over the border and was flying over Indian Punjab, my father fell into a deep and uncharacteristic silence, leaning over to gaze down from the skies at the soil and the verdant land that had borne him and his ancestors, his eyes moistened by tears inspired, undoubtedly, by memories that he had relegated to the deepest corners of his mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">We organized a hotel suite for Abba that overlooked Raisina Road. Naturally the first thing the next morning was a trip to the house. Abba insisted on walking, and as we approached the gate his usual brisk pace slowed, as though to afford time to absorb the event and to fortify himself. The paramilitary guard outside the house, coincidentally, hailed from Haryana or Rajastan and spoke a dialect close to that of Banur. For the first time ever, I heard Abba lapse into the Banur dialect in which he explained the cause of our visit. It was a reflexive reversion since Urdu was what Abba used for as long as I could remember. The second instance at which he did this was the morning after my mother’s burial as we sat together at dawn in the garden of our Karachi home, trying to cope with the magnitude of our loss.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">As is typical of such cross-border encounters in the Indo-Pakistan context, the guard immediately offered to waken the household so that we could visit the inside. To which Abba replied, with a deeply wistful look, that there was no need—the house was not and had not been our abode for decades and he had no desire to disturb anyone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Home is primarily a circumstance created by people, atmosphere, and associations. Once these change, the physical place can no longer be regarded as “Home”. The event of migration or displacement is not so painful as is the prospect that you <i>cannot go back</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Abba recovered wonderfully from the emotional stress, charming all and sundry in Delhi with his gravitas, elegance, wit, gentleness, and warmth. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">It was not all nostalgia and moroseness. Far be it. There was mirth aplenty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">There was the mandatory visit to Nizamuddin to pay homage to Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya and Hazrat Amir Khusro. This happened an evening or two before the wedding and we were accompanied by a dear friend, Ansis Helmanis, Latvian-American from Boston, living in Vienna on assignment with the UN. Ansis came for the wedding and it happened to be his first visit to the subcontinent. He took all of it in stride wonderfully, being simultaneously fascinated and shell-shocked by the colour, music, sounds, smells, and the sheer weight of humanity. He participated with gusto in every gathering, ceremony, or venture into Delhi and its environs. His personality easily lent itself to the emotions of the subcontinent, leading us to conclude that he must have been borne in India in a past life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">After the homage at the graves, we wandered around Nizamuddin until dusk. On our way out we passed a shack that sold <i>jalaybees </i>and the desire to savour<i> </i>the sweets was overwhelming. So we stopped and chatted with the vendor, trying to convince him to cook us a fresh hot batch<i>,</i> despite the fact that he was shutting shop for the evening. It did not take much convincing for him to kindle the fire and heat up the fat filled pan in which the <i>jalaybees</i> were to be deep-fried as well as the pan of thick syrup in which they would be soaked to get their unique sugary taste. The vendor emphasised the favour he was doing in restarting this paraphernalia that, he said, was only because <i>aap bahar say aiye hain</i> [you have come from abroad]—I was dressed in a <i>shalwar kameez</i> and therefore identifiably Pakistani.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Thus far, Ansis paid only cursory notice to the proceedings but the ritual of the cooking focused his attention. It was only then that he noticed the grime of the place. The frying pan was pitch black, encrusted with fat and residues. The receptacle for the syrup was equally filthy and there were heaps of flies, the king-sized blue-black variety, which had settled for their nocturnal pursuits upon the wire from which the feeble light bulb was suspended. When the wire was accidentally shaken, they took flight, swarming around the shack, accentuating the lack of hygiene of the place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">All this caused Ansis to get evermore wide-eyed with trepidation. But what finally overwhelmed him was the cloth funnel through which the batter for the jalaybees was to be squeezed into ringlets in the frying pan. The cloth was a dark, murky gray and stiff as cardboard due to the grime and residue retained from past use. Ansis’ jaw dropped in disbelief<i>—Man! Are you actually going to eat stuff cooked like this? !!!.</i> The vendor, sensing somewhat of a lack of admiration on Ansis’ part, sheepishly smiled and apologised for the fact that the cloth had not been washed that day. I told him to dispense with the apologies since by its look the cloth had probably not been washed since Hazrat Nizamuddin’s day…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">In the event, the jalaybees were cooked and put into a small paper bag fabricated from a recycled newspaper. For the first time in the trip Ansis looked visibly scared: <i>Look, guys, I worked at the USFDA. I know that scientific research proves that some bacteria don’t die even at a thousand degrees. That place was about the filthiest bacteria farm I have ever seen. This stuff is packed in newsprint with ink that contains lead. You’ll die if you eat any of this!!!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">And so we went our way, chomping the jalaybees in bliss. Ansis watched this with incredulity. A few minutes later, seeing that premature death had not overtaken us, he asked for a taste. I reminded him of his revulsion at the lack of hygiene etc. He was undeterred. I gave him a tidbit. The delicious taste so overwhelmed him that he that he grabbed the bag and demolished the whole lot of jalaybees, leaving none for us!</span></div>
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Thus was Ansis’ introductory lesson on sub continental street food—<i>the filth is part of the taste and some things, when cooked at home, would not be quite as delicious when cooked in a clean environment! </i>Ansis went on to eat at some of the grungiest and greatest street side eateries in India and Pakistan. His stomach survived and his taste buds flourished…</div>
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So, the food did not affect our well-being. The same could not be said of a new acquaintance, Sandeep (Bunty) Chawla.</div>
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Bunty was then Professor of History in Shilong University and one of the blades around Delhi, having completed his Doctorate in History from St. Stephen’s, Oxford and Delhi University. His elder brother and sister-in-law invited us for dinner that same evening as the Nizamuddin episode. The food was great, the lubrication plentiful, and the conversation lively; so the evening lasted till after 2 am. By now it was freezing outside, and Bunty’s brother designated him to drop Ansis and me at our hotel. Given the hour and the distance, I expressed the normal formality of suggesting to Bunty that we could take a taxi back rather than inconvenience him, if only he could drop us at a taxi stand. Surprisingly Bunty took the perfunctory formality literally and managed to place us in a rickshaw after several determined yet unsuccessful attempts to wean several Sardar taxi drivers from the comfort of beds warmed by coal fired heaters in open-air taxi stands.</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">So Ansis and I found ourselves under-clad against the freezing Delhi night in a rickety rickshaw, braced for the long ride back, huddled against the shards of piercing cold drafts that lacerated us through the many openings of the rickshaw. Not quite the stuff of which fond memories are made!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The next morning I woke up with a sharp headache and raging fever, feeling like I was down with pneumonia, a fearsome prospect confronting the Most Important Day of My Life!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Ansis went to Agra early that morning and it was not till the evening that I was able to touch base with him only to find him hoarse and equally feverish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Our acute indisposition on his account earned Bunty the honorific “The B-----d Bunty” for several months.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Bunty came to Vienna in mid 1983 to join the UN, and embark upon a stellar career. A wary (on my part) acquaintanceship grew into a profound friendship with one of the most hospitable, generous, loyal, humorous, and intellectually challenging friends I have been privileged with. He is godfather to my younger son, and we have shared a great deal of life. On my enquiring, some years later, on his behaviour that night Bunty could not recall, come hell or high water, what prompted this transgression on his norms of hospitality. My theory is that, since at the time he was wooing his future bride, a hormonal overload had short-circuited his brain. Surprising how the source of reason speeds across anatomical boundaries when love is in the air!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">But back to that time of this narrative, Bunty and his brother were enthusiastic participants in the concert that is the subject of this post.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgcrMLU7FnLgoHHuG5U4OMNg81mYFx5SoLDIvwe8OaOInrz8JFBTshTzrEyW4Movu3_ayYV7shco32hNDBQp6cNcK0h8-xFa_VbJl9UVrnmj8sY4aeTx2qXo54DJKtGiSlxzJYqXTpKqY/s1600/Shujaat.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgcrMLU7FnLgoHHuG5U4OMNg81mYFx5SoLDIvwe8OaOInrz8JFBTshTzrEyW4Movu3_ayYV7shco32hNDBQp6cNcK0h8-xFa_VbJl9UVrnmj8sY4aeTx2qXo54DJKtGiSlxzJYqXTpKqY/s320/Shujaat.jpg" height="184" width="320" /></a></div>
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Shujaat beginning the recitation of "Mun Kunto Maula"<span style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></div>
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<b>The Concert<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">And so, if you have survived the story thus far, on to the music.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Shujaat Khan is the elder of Ustaad Vilayat Khansahib’s sons, heir to a musical legacy of several generations. His great-grandfather, Imdad Khan, established a gharana of sitar players endowed with his name. His grandfather Enayat Khan was a legend who’s reputation spanned generations despite the fact that generations after his had no opportunity to hear him as there are no known available recordings. But it took the genius and perseverance of Shujaat’s father, Ustad Vilayat Khansahib, to elevate the sitar to unparalleled heights in the expression of the raaga in instrumental form.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Originally conceived by Hazrat Ameer as an instrument to accompany the vocal form, by the time of Imdad Khan, the sitar had been elevated to a principal instrument. The Imdad Khani <i>gharana</i> justifiably prides itself in playing the sitar in the <i>gayaki ang </i>(vocal continuous melodic expression) rather than the <i>gat torah </i>(tonal discontinuity of plucked/strummed stringed instruments).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Vilayat Khansahib was borne of two lineages, the Imdad Khan lineage of sitar players and his maternal heritage of notable vocalists. His first love affair was with vocal music but his mother insisted that he maintain his paternal legacy and stay with the sitar. He was in the fortunate position of being able to choose between two streams of Indian classical music—the vocal and the instrumental. Rather than force the choice, he developed his skills at the sitar to express the music with a fluency that matches the vocal. He also took to singing a few bars along with the sitar, short musical phrases enunciated to emphasise the melody of the raaga. The first instance we heard this was in a live tape recording my father was presented of a concert that Khansahib gave in Calcutta sometime in the seventies, when he played Shudh Kalyan supported by recitation of the phrases of the Qaul, “Mun Kunto Maula”. We found this to be utterly unique and memories of this beautiful expose were imprinted indelibly on our minds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Most great musicians achieve their status through training and dedicated hard work. A few are gifted and endowed by the Almighty with something special that makes them God’s gift to humanity. Vilayat Khansahib was one of the few.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The most notable aspect of Khansahib’s combination of vocal and sitar expositions was his exquisite sense of balance. The vocalization never overshadowed the virtuosity of the sitar expression. This unfortunately cannot be said of many of the current generation of sitarists from the Imdad Khan gharaana, who seem to fancy themselves as singers and go on and on with mediocre or (at most) passable singing to the detriment of their real forte, which is the sitar, with the result that the audience is presented tepid vocalisations backed up by gimmicky sitar music. This is an unfortunate and unnecessary development, a concession to supposedly popular tastes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I first heard Shujaat in 1978. He accompanied his father at a concert held in a church in Montreal. Khansahib decided to play Marwa, a particularly difficult and somewhat dry, burdened raaga. Although barely 18, Shujaat demonstrated virtuosity, following the exposition note for note, nuance by nuance, under the father’s watchful eye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I had expressed the wish that we have a music concert after the nikkah and was therefore quite besides myself with delight to hear that a family friend of the in-laws was able to get Shujaat to play the wedding concert.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Pakistani visitors to Delhi were somewhat of a curiosity in those days and a Pakistani marrying an Indian all the more so. I was, therefore, regarded as a bit of a specimen I presume. It was probably this curiosity that prompted Shujaat, his mother and his sister to participate in all the <i>rasams</i> associated with the ceremony. We met at the <i>mehndi</i> ceremony, on the day prior to the actual wedding and the concert. This afforded an opportunity for Abba and I to get to know this magnetic and vivacious personality, to talk music and what it meant to be the son of Ustaad Vilayat Khansahib.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Shujaat was short of 23 that time and despite this being a first meeting, he gave us a glimpse of his inner soul, the turbulence of his adolescence caused by the burdens of the musical inheritance that he bore, of his aspirations for the future in embarking upon his journey as an independent artist emerging from the large shadow caste by his father.</span><br />
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Shujaat had an endearing mischievousness to him and he regaled us with stories of Japan and of Japanese music, all told with a touch of humour that afforded moments of light-heartedness.</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">We talked about the performance and almost inevitably our shortlist for the music were Shudh Kalyan, Hameer and Bilawal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The actual recital was magical. Shujaat played with classical segmentation of the exposition into the alaap, jorh and jhala in Shyam Kalyan with Hameer and Bilawal played in the faster tempo at the end. The second part of the concert comprised lighter pieces. Shujaat was accompanied by Shafaat Khan, a young tabla player who has since attained considerable fame.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">We almost lost this recording. The recording fellow brought along a machine that had a defective erase head and used a pre-recorded tape. Thus the original audio recording has an irritating underlay of the previously recorded music. We managed to rescue the first part of the session, lasting 45 minutes, by copying the soundtrack from the videotape of the occasion. Not the best quality of recording and in mono format. But it is better than nothing!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Shujaat played brilliantly that evening, the speed of his hands and finger work was such that the videotape has his fingers dissolving into a blur when he plays at the faster rhythms! Most remarkable in this performance is the use of the <i>meendh </i>(elongation of the note by stretching the string along the length of the fret/bridge on the neck of the sitar ). This seemingly simple means of accentuating a note is masterfully demonstrated as a technique perfected by the Imdad Khani gharaana and the net effect is a delightful “floating” of the note, consigning it to the air, to eternity.<span style="color: red;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">If there are two words to describe the artist and his performance they are vigour and authority. The vigour came from Shujaat’s youthful energy and the authority of his exposition defies his tender years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">He recorded <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTpP-AAXPSk">another version</a> of Shyam Kalyan, almost a quarter of a century later, in his 2006 album “Hazaron Khawahishen”. That exposé has a totally different mood—gentle, complex, deliberated and full of <i>ihteraam </i>for the musical note as well as for the kalaam. I have listened to both versions sequentially and till today cannot make up my mind as to which I prefer, the younger Shujaat Khan who explodes with the music or the older Ustaad Shujaat Khan who treats it with a wise tenderness.</span>—<b><i>Asif Mamu</i></b></div>
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bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-30772559262268087422012-05-05T14:59:00.000-04:002016-07-23T17:54:03.759-04:001992 Mehfil - Munshi Raziuddin & Sons<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;">We spent that year’s summer leave in Islamabad with my cousin Minni and Nusrat Ali Shah, her husband, a politician of some consequence in the Islamabad of that era.</span><br />
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Abu Mohammad (Munshi Raziuddin’s second son and one of the three principle singers in the troupe) had been told of our trip, and he called Islamabad. I told him that it would be a pity that we would not be coming to Karachi and, consequently, in keeping with tradition, we would not meet nor have a musical evening that year. Munshi Raziuddin sent word that they would not countenance such mutual deprivation, and they volunteered to come to Islamabad. And so they did, braving an exhausting overnight train journey from Karachi.<br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;">In yesteryear, the train journeys in Pakistan were an adventure. Trains like </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">Tezgam </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">(fleet footed), Khyber Mail, Chenab Express, </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">Tezrao</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> (speedy flow), and Bolan Mail connected the far flung corners of the country. The British-built train stations, whether large or small, boasted a characteristic colonial architecture that was functionally suited to the environment of the country, a holdover from the majesty of the Raj and a tribute to the common sense and aesthetics of the designing civil engineers. The sounds and smells of train stations are something that live with me to this day, and not least were the smells and taste of the food. The </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">biryanee</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">, whether served by the Pakistan Western Railway or the hawkers and vendors at train stations, remains one of the culinary legends of the subcontinent. However the years have not been kind</span>—the railways have fallen apart and train journeys have become an excruciating experience for those unfortunate or mad enough to undertake this form of travel. Such were the travails that Munshi Raziuddin and the group undertook in their journey of love to be with us that day.<br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;">They arrived In Islamabad in the afternoon and arrangements were made for them to rest. Munshi Raziuddin, irrepressible as he was, instead spent a couple of hours in mirthful conversation describing the rigours of the train journey and catching up on matters personal, worldly and spiritual. The conversation and laughter would have gone on until the evening when the </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">mehfil</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> (concert) was to start, had I not implored him to sleep and get some rest.</span><br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;">The energy generated by the joyous afternoon reunion is testified by the test recording (Track 1). What was supposed to be a two-minute test piece went on for about 16 minutes. Starting with </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">Chayya Nut</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">, they wove together snippets of all my favourite raagas and </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">cheez </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">(musical items). These comprise a comprehensive performance in itself, and an exhilarating one. As far as I was concerned, the evening could have stopped there and I could have gone to bed, musically satiated.</span><br />
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That evening, Minni and Nusrat invited several Islamabad notables. The Islamabad crowd was a far cry from the rambunctious gatherings in Karachi. Here the people were affected, terribly conscious of their place in the political, bureaucratic and social pecking order—a very muted, stiff and self-conscious group. No wonder that Pakistan is in the terrible state that it is, with its destiny in the hands of this constipated lot! An indefatigable lady, a political type, who till this day is very much a fixture of the inner circles in Islamabad, provided a remarkable counterpoint. She rocked and rolled away with abandon, quite oblivious of the effect her ample endowments created on the stuffy gathering.<br />
<span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">As is usual, the Manqabat is the point of departure for the mehfil and a short mystical/musical/contextual oral introduction is presented. In the introduction that evening, Munshi Raziuddin did something unusual in going to a philosophical rather than musical plane. He recalled a reported instructional discussion between the Prophet of Islam and his regent and son-in-law, Hazrat Ali. In response to the Prophet’s question, Hazrat Ali states that the Qur’an would divinely guide decisions in his tenure of governance. The Prophet questions Ali as to what he would do if clear guidance were not found in the Qur’an. Ali states that he would follow the <i>a</i></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><i>hadis</i></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> and traditions. Again, came the question, what if these did not provide clear instruction, to which Ali replies that he would exercise his own judgment and reason in the light of the divine guidance of the Qur’an and the precedents recorded in the a</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">hadis</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">.</span><br />
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I think this was Munshi Raziuddin’s answer to a question that I had posed him once, some years earlier, where we had debated the question of reason versus belief. In this recollection he implies that divine guidance, belief and reason have their respective and clear roles in worldly life. Divine guidance and belief establish boundaries within which reason is exercised in the conduct of public, social and private matters. Divine guidance and reason are two pillars supporting human conduct. One without the other is meaningless. Hazrat Ali’s life and example is the epitome of the power of combining the two in the quest for social justice and common human decency. I suppose Munshi Raziuddin also saw it fit to recall this perspective for the benefit of some of those who were Powers That Be in Islamabad…<br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;">All this points to the centrality of Ali’s worldview to the Sufi ethos. As a sufi, in a state of </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">wajd</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> (ecstasy) proclaimed:</span><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;">Banay sufi jazbaat main behnay waaley! </span></div>
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<span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">Qalandar bane ishq main jalnay walay! </span></div>
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<span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">Qutub bane ranj o gham sehnay walay! </span></div>
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<span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">Wali ban gaye Yaa Ali kehnay wale!!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline;">YAA ALI ! HAQ!!!!</span><br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;">The concert proceeds with a series of <i>m</i></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><i>anqabats</i></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> and <i>q</i></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><i>aseedas</i></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">, culminating with<b> </b></span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Baro Ghi Ke Diye Na, Aaj Bhadawa</b></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> and </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Mere Bane ki Baat na Puchcho</b></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">. These established the strongly devotional and mystical character of the </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">mehfil</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">.</span><br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;">Musically, in my opinion, the high point of the first part is the recital of R</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">aaga Bahar </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Phool Rahi Sarson</b></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">. Abu Mohammad’s </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">galakari</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> is quite brilliant in this one. Whereas this piece is normally rendered in Purbi couplets, they wove in Persian couplets one of which Munshi Raziuddin directed at me (3:20):</span><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;">“Sahibzadeh Sahib…Na mohtajam ba gul gashtay chaman ay baaghban hargiz, Bahaar I sadhh chaman dar abid i jaana na mi gham (?)…”</span><br />
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Now, don’t ask me what this signifies, my ignorance prevents me from comprehending the true meaning and beauty of the poetry, but the sound of Persian is just so melodic! Could someone with the better education enlighten me with the meaning of this and its preceding couplets?<br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;">There is a lively rendition of a familiar Qawwali </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Khawaja Piya</b>.</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> This is a popular </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">dhammal</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> piece, but listen to the digression from about 07:05 to 07:54 where there is a switch of tempo and flirtation with </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">khyaal</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> style exposition. Transitions such as these are difficult and not for the faint of heart! What mastery and control over the musical expression! And then shortly afterwards they float off to Khausro’s world of ecstatic worship, to the world of dervishes, with </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Nami Danam chi Manzil Bood</b></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">!</span><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Nami danam chi manzil bood shab jaay ki man boodam;</span></div>
<span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">Baharsu raqs-e bismil bood shab jaay ki man boodam.<br class="kix-line-break" />Pari paikar nigaar-e sarw qadde laala rukhsare;<br class="kix-line-break" />Sarapa aafat-e dil bood shab jaay ki man boodam.<br class="kix-line-break" />Khuda khud meer-e majlis bood andar laamakan Khusrau;<br class="kix-line-break" />Muhammad shamm-e mehfil bood shab jaay ki man boodam.</span><br />
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English Translation:<br />
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I wonder what was the place where I was last night,<br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;">All around me were half-slaughtered victims of love, tossing about in agony.<br class="kix-line-break" />There was a nymph-like beloved with cypress-like form and tulip-like face,<br class="kix-line-break" />Ruthlessly playing havoc with the hearts of the lovers.<br class="kix-line-break" />God himself was the master of ceremonies in that heavenly court,<br class="kix-line-break" />Oh Khusrau, where (the face of) the Prophet too was shedding light like a candle. [1]</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">The mid piece of the concert is a rendition of </span><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Sundhar</b> </span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">in Tilak Kamod, a raaga that is eternal. By this time they were well settled in and there is a distinct calmness in the air. Listen to the tremulous voice of Munshi Raziuddin with evocative and unusual Hindi/<i>Khari Boli</i> bandishes. Munshi Raziuddin comes into his own, at several points, a tender and mellifluous voice, tremulous with age but strong in musicality and precise in enunciation. Every time I pay homage at his grave, I hear this voice as my parting impression and our farewell.</span><br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;">In deference to the Punjabi audience they sang the piece </span><i><b>Ni Mein Jana Kheriyaan De Naal</b></i><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> (O! I will not go with the Khers)</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">by Waris Shah, the 18</span><span style="vertical-align: super;">th</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> century poet of the Great Punjabi Love Story Heer-Ranjha. Heer is married off by her family to someone from the village of Kher, and Ranjah, broken hearted, becomes a jogi. They are reunited when he wanders through Kher, and she escapes with Ranjah, the jogi, to return with him to her parents’ village. A few years previously when the group came to Vienna, I had asked them to include the piece </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">Mein Nai Jana Jogi De Naal</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> in their repertoire. There is a masterful rendition of this by Nusrat Fateh Ali which is a favourite. Rather than replicate Nusrat’s </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">Dhamaal</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">, they slowed the tempo, and blended it into their </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline;">Gayaki</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> style, and then Ayyaz, during the performance, sang a second movement, his innovation, with the phrase </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><i>Veh Mein Nai Jana Khareyaan De Naal</i>. How this came about is the subject of another anecdote that awaits a future post on this blog.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">In the next track <b><i>Nami danam chi manzil bood</i></b> they blend Khusrau's Persian with a couple of Munshi Raziuddin's favourite Urdu couplets <i>Voh kaun sa tha maqam e junoon khuda jane</i> and <i>kya kahoon, kisse kahoon, kaise khaoon, kyoonkar kahoon</i> as well as with Hafiz's <i>Mun malak boodam o ferdos e baraeen jayam bood, Adam avurd dareen deyr e kharaba badam</i> (I was an angel and my dwelling was sublime Paradise, But Adam brought me into this seemingly flourished but ruined cloister). Wah! </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">And then this standard, yet ever so neat, poetic transition into </span><b style="text-align: justify;"><i>Yaad Hai Kuchch bhi Hamari Kanhaiya</i></b><span style="text-align: justify;">, a Hindi Bhajjan, via Momin Khan Momin's </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Voh jo ham mein tum mein qaraar thaa tumhein yaad ho ke na yaad ho, Vahi yaani vaadaa nibaah ka tumhein yaad ho ke na yaad ho </i><span style="text-align: justify;">(That peace which existed between you and I, whether you remember it or not, That promise of loyalty, whether you remember it or not)</span><i style="text-align: justify;">. </i><span style="text-align: justify;">What an apt transition from one kalam into another completely dissimilar one; leading the listener from a contemplation of some outwordly </span><i style="text-align: justify;">manzil </i><span style="text-align: justify;">(station) of </span><i style="text-align: justify;">junoon </i><span style="text-align: justify;">(excitement) to the theme of </span><i style="text-align: justify;">yaad </i><span style="text-align: justify;">(remembrance)!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-align: justify;">In developing Kanhaiyya, they construct an ornament of verses drawn from different poets that explore the emotions of yaad, </span><i style="text-align: justify;">intezaar </i><span style="text-align: justify;">(longing), and </span><i style="text-align: justify;">judai/</i><i>furaq</i><i style="text-align: justify;"> </i><span style="text-align: justify;">(separation). The first verse is Iqbal's couplet </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Bagh-e-bahisht se mujhe hukm-e-safar diya tha kyon, Kaar-e-jahan daraaz hai, ab mera intezar kar</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> (Why did You order me to journey out of Paradise, The affairs of this world occupy me, You must now wait for me); an unknown Purbi poet's </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Sona lenay Pi gaye aur kabse gaye pardes, Sona mila na Pi mila, moray chandi ho gaye kes</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> (My beloved left in search of gold, Neither he nor the gold was found, [in forlorn waiting] my hair turned white); Khusrau's Purbi verse </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Jo mein jaanti bichrat hain saiyan, ghongta mein aag laga dayti </i><span style="text-align: justify;">... (Had I known my beloved was departing, I would have burned my veil); and another one of Munshi Razi's oft-recited verses </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Mora haat deikh baraham yeh bata key yaar milayga kab, Tere mon se nikle khuda kare keh abhi abhi is hi haal mein</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> (O Brahman read my hand and tell me when I will meet my beloved, May you utter with God's will that [I will meet him] now and in this very state of being).</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">In all of Sufi mystical poetry, there are several levels of meaning. Taken literally, the poetry can be interpreted as the yearning for a temporal beloved. Beautiful as the love poetry is, its full power lies in the discovery of deeper meaning. At one level the poetry expresses the love that the Sufi poet (for example Khusrau) has for his spiritual guide (Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya) as the connection to God. In the ultimate, it expresses the direct desire for communion between the Sufi and the Creator, the desire for the Sufi to be united with the Creator, the ultimate beloved. Hence temporal life is expressed as separation from the Eternal and passage from the temporal world to the Eternal a joyous reunion with the Creator, for which the Sufi thirsts whilst in the temporal world.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">The taraana in Raaga Zeelaf is yet again embellished with embedded verses: </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Bahaan churahe jahat ho so nibal jan kar mohe, Phir dame say jao ge tab marad badoon gi tohe</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> and Hazrat Usman Harooni's </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Biya jana tamasha kun key dar ambohey ja bazan, Basad saman e ruswaee sarey bazar mi raqsam</i><span style="text-align: justify;">. (Come Beloved! See the spectacle that in the crowd of the intrepid and daring, With a hundred ignominies in the heart of the market, I dance!)</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">The fluency of these poetic and musical transitions display a mastery that never ceases to amaze me. Together in these three tracks, in the space of just a few minutes, they manage a tour d’horizon of all the major linguistic and poetic forms of North West India!</span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">Their </span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">Tarana</span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"> in Raga </span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">Zeelaf</span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"> on this occasion was a very special expression of a center piece in their repertoire. This Taraana is only surpassed by what Ayyaz sang, but I did not record, on another occasion. Their second trip to Vienna was organized with a friend and Indophile, Andy Malleta. Andy owns a large apartment building in town, with an ample central courtyard, in which he organized an oriental musical festival. He erected a shamiana in the courtyard with a <i>farshi</i> (floor) seating arrangement, diyas and the works--a beautiful setting. Abu Mohammad and Ayyaz opened the festival, to be followed the next day by some Korean shamans who sang, and so on. Anyways, before the actual performance, Ayyaz and I sat in a room, by ourselves, and Ayyaz by way of </span><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">Ryaaz</span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">, began to recite a succession of t</span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">aranas </span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">with the </span><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">Tanpura</span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"> as his only accompaniment. The intimacy of the moment and his intensity were such that I do not know which of us was the more transported. He sang for about half an hour and one walked out of that interlude with the head in the clouds. They sang beautifully that night and were featured on Austrian television.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">They conclude with a </span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">Qaseeda</span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"> devoted to the Prophet’s grandson, Hazrat Imam Hussain, the younger son of Hazrat Ali, and Bibi Fatima, the only surviving child of the Prophet. I have a better performance of this piece, where they went from Qawwali to the Marsiyah form--that too will have to await another post on this blog. However this short expose may introduce the reader to the Imam Hussain epic which is </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">the</span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"> Islamic passion play of supreme sacrifice while speaking Truth to Brute Power.</span><br />
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All in all, the Islamabad evening was one in which the audience did not inspire the musicians, but the musical force of the Qawwals was such that they were able to pull the audience to a higher and more refined level of poetic and musical appreciation. This was something that Munshi Raziuddin held as sacrosanct in his effort, to pull his audience to his plane rather than descend to the common temperament. On my enquiring as to how he managed this, he told me that he would constantly survey his audience, seeking resonances in individuals and would “enlist” the support of one or two who seemed to appreciate the music, then turn his attention to another and then another, fine tuning the music and poetry to create a string of enthusiasts in his audience. This is not just a matter of technique, it lies at the heart of the Sufi experience, the contact with an individual, then another, yet another until there is an inexplicable transmission of shared sentiment to a whole community, the audience at a mehfil, or a following of a sage.<br />
<span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">This has been learned by his sons to great effect. I have heard them sing classical </span><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">khyaal</span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"> mehfils while also hearing them create the atmosphere of a </span><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">Mehfil-i-Samaa</span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"> and they even have totally secularized the Qawwali form to </span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://qawwal.blogspot.com/2008/05/qawwals-take-message-of-sufis-to-hindu.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">recite Sufiana kalam at a mandir</a></span><span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">!</span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">This, I would suggest, is the essence of Qawwali. It inspires the spirituality existent in every faith, and creates a sense of connection with the eternal. I have asserted elsewhere that the Islamic influence in the subcontinent was not so much the doing of conquerors and kings. It certainly was not inspired by the merciless harangue of the mullah. Indo-Islamic civilization grew and thrived primarily as a result of the message of love, universal brotherhood, justice, humanity and peace conveyed by the various Auliyas and Sufi saints. Qawwali was one means of conveying this message. Humbleness, personal example and compassion were another. One can testify with heartwarming conviction that, despite the madness of this present time, at least one of those traditions is alive and thriving. May the Almighty always will it that way</span>.—<b><i>Asif Mamu </i></b><br />
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Notes:<br />
1. <span style="vertical-align: baseline;">The poem and the translation both are taken from the site </span><a href="http://www.alif-india.com/love.html"><span style="color: blue; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.alif-india.com/love.html</span></a><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"> and is added here with the permission of the site owner. </span>Mr Yousuf Saeed holds the copyright of this poem<br />
<br />
<b>Vol I</b><br />
1. Riyaaz (Raagas Chaya Nat, Bilawal, Suha, Malkauns, Nand)<br />
2. Qaul - Man Kunto Maula<br />
3. Baro Ghee Ke Diyena Bhaile Aamana Ke Lallana - Aaj Badhawa<br />
<br />
<b>Vol II</b><br />
1. Haryala Bana Ladala - Mere Bane Ki Baat Na Puchcho<br />
2. Phool Rahin Sarsoon (Raaga Bahar)<br />
3. Piya Piya - Tarana (Raaga Suha)<br />
4. Khwaja Piya Piya - Nami Danam Ke Akhir Chun Dam-e-Deedar Mi Raqsam<br />
<br />
<b>Vol III</b><br />
1. Chaap Tilak<br />
2. Baji Lagi Tan Man Dhan - Chaap Tilak - Dam Hamadam Ali Ali<br />
3. Mun Bajras Har Dum Ali Ali<br />
4. Ali Ghar Deyo Badhai<br />
5. Paniya Bharan Nahi De - Mangal Karan Sundhar (Raaga Tilak Kamod)<br />
<br />
<b>Vol IV</b><br />
1. Ni Mein Jana Kheriyaan De Naal<br />
2. Nami Danam Che Manzil Bood - Kanaiyyah - Tarana Zeelaf - Aye Dilbagir Daman-e-Sultan-e-Auliya</div>
</div>
</div>
bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-89133249158884659962010-06-06T01:26:00.022-04:002016-07-23T17:55:36.203-04:001994 Mehfil - Munshi Raziuddin & Sons<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We were in Karachi on home leave. Abba and I fixed an impromptu session at one of Abba’s long time friend Shamin Malik’s house near the Quaid-e-Azam’s Mazaar. Shamin is a prominent businessman based in London and Karachi. His house is a pre-partition building that he has restored to its pristine glory, with taste and respect for the original that is found rarely in Karachi. The high ceilings and tiled flooring created very good resonant acoustics and the “concert hall” effects can be heard as picked up by the indestructible Akai cassette deck.<br />
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The acoustics were complimented by a great deal of enthusiasm and energy in this session which can be perceived from the very first track, a sound test in which they sang a Tarana in Tilak Kamod. Ayaz and Abu Mohammad were getting their confidence as performers. The special familial bond had been reinvigorated recently when they made their first trip to Vienna in November 1990.<br />
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Talking of the Vienna trip, Abba was in his element, exchanging reminisces with Munshi Raziuddin of the Vienna trip and his past joy of their music. We have included these conversations in this posting, not least to give the listener a feel of the beauty of the melody, vocabulary and idiom of Munshi Sahib’s language, all of which are not found in contemporary conversation in the subcontinent. As with many victims of modernity, the beautiful imagery of everyday Urdu expression has also succumbed to the vicissitudes of time and expedience. The hue and colour of Munshi Raziuddin’s language is unlimited when it comes to communicating and radiating affection.<br />
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The rendition of the Qaul Mun Kunto Maula has an unusually beautiful alaap in Shyam Kalyan, deliberate and drawn out. The section from 3:17-7:10 is so full of <span style="font-style: italic;">ihteraam</span> (respect) for the musical notes, and with a full-blooded expansiveness. Ayaz's son, who I heard the first time, adds a pretty falsetto voice and timbre to the choral ensemble (he comes into his own from 11:20 onwards). <br />
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The overall temper of this session was set in the Kalyan thaat predominantly, established by the Man Kunto Maula alaap and the third piece Sawan ki Sanjh. <br />
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The rendition of Phool Rahi Sarson was the high point in my opinion. <br />
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I only fully appreciated this composition of Ameer Khusro’s after experiencing the winter in rural UP, in Jaunpur District. In December 1984, when Juni was a tad above a year old, we went on home leave to the subcontinent. My mother-in-law took us to her ancestral home where she was in the process of restoring her maternal grandfather’s haveli and farming the land that was her inheritance. This part of rural UP has a distinctly feminine beauty in its gentleness, a contrast to, say, the rugged handsomeness of the Pothwar region in Pakistan. It was cold, crisp and sunny. I would walk though the fields every morning to savour the flat, open countryside that seemed to go on forever. A strip of yellow from the mustard flowers, in full bloom, with a carpet of green underneath, punctuated the vivid cloudless blue of the morning sky. One morning, some peacocks in the near distance broke into full dance and the riot of colour was breathtaking with the lush blues, yellow and greens of this scene. Quite spontaneously the phrase of this song and the tune of raaga Bahar filled the head…it seemed such an intimate echo of the fertile majesty before me. A joyous moment and one thanked God for his bounties, not least for the gift of our son. <br />
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Around 8:00 Ayaz changes tempo, delightful galakari. And what a masterful transition of tempo without breaking the beat! The Taraana (about 12:40)...fabulous!<br />
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They had a mental construct of where they wanted to go from the Bahar, however Abba challenged them by asking for the switch to Shankara. A spontaneous request and change in the flow is not easy for the ordinary performer to accomplish, but they did it brilliantly, taking it all in stride. Abba often talked about how he first heard this raaga, during his childhood in Banur in Patiala, our family’s ancestral home of some seven centuries. Abba was 12 at the time (this must have been 1927), and ever since then had a haunting association of Shankara with Banur, a wonderful childhood and his lost home.<br />
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My visual image of Shankara—which is such a sensual raaga—is that of a haughty, beautiful princess, carried rhythmically by her palanquin bearers, wonderful whimsy in her look, an arrogance yet fundamental care for humanity, tenderness that cannot be allowed to express itself because of her stature in a highly stratified class consciousness society.<br />
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Despite the effortlessness in entering the Shankara, I feel the tarana they added at the end did not go with the stellar performance of the main raaga, and it offers a somewhat tentative attempt to round it off. <br />
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By the time they got to the subsequent Hameer they had recovered their musical composure. We have various renditions and have written about the raaga in another posting on this blog; suffice it to say that this rendition has its characteristic beauty. To play on an old saying, you have not lived if you have not heard Hameer or savoured its mood!<br />
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And the Maru Behag, another favourite, what a beauty! They start with an ethereal, slow classic alaap reiterating the root notes around 5:50.<br />
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This entire session is characterized by brilliant transitions. In the Mere Bane ki Baat, for instance, around 7:20 there is brilliant interlude to Maand and a return to it around 11:50 for a couple of moments. Also notice how the Chaap Tilak (raaga Des) is flirtatiously interspersed brilliantly with raaga Kalawati and other raagas. Around 27:00, Ayaz switches from Abu Mohamad's Tilak Kamod detour into raaga Basant Mukhari with the comment <span style="font-style: italic;">Aik thaat reh gaya tha mein ne kaha woh bhi paish kar doon</span>. Pretty much all the major thaats are covered in this one piece!<br />
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This is one thing that is beautiful about masterful Qawwali that no single raaga is adhered to in any given piece. Here there is an exquisite transition from Maru Behag to Bilawal...so smooth and emotive. That is what music is all about! <br />
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Aey Daiya Kahan Gaey Ve Logh, soulful poetic bandish, suits the temper of the raaga, a wistful and plaintive melodic mood. This bandish in Bilawal becomes evermore more poignant for me at this stage in life, when loved ones, lifelong companions, dear friends leave for their eternal destiny. May they have eternal peace. Their presence in life has made it such a rich and beautiful affair. They will always live in our hearts and minds.<br />
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After the conversation interlude between Munshi Raziuddin and Abba they returned to Tilak Kamod, where they had started this evening. The energy of the evening and their performance is that after all these hours of singing, both Ayaz and Abu Mohammad could embark on brilliant galakari, heard from 6:00 onwards. The bandish is rather unusual ‘Piaray pardesi ghar aa ja saavan mein'. A powerful piece of poetry directed at me, expressing their love and the desire to see me back home. I have since returned to a Pakistan that is very different to that which I left 38 years ago, and to the realization that home is a state of mind, people and circumstance rather than a place. <br />
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The last part of this session entails my son Ali doing his impersonation of Michael Jackson. He was eight at the time, and full of beans. He took up the microphone and proceeded to Do His Thing. Even till today he hasn’t yielded the fantasy of being a pop star. This performance seems to have lived in the Qawwal’s minds. At my niece Niya's concert in 2008, commemorating her first birthday, Ayaz remembered this one when he said <span style="font-style: italic;">Hamaari nazrain Ali par theen magar in ka khyaal kaheen aur tha</span>. It was Ali’s cuteness, rather than his talent, that probably left the indelible impression. <span style="font-weight: bold;">— <span style="font-style: italic;">Asif Mamu.</span></span><br />
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The Qawwalis sung were:<br />
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01 Tarana (Raaga Tilak Kamod)<br />
02 Sazeena (Raaga Tilak Kamod)<br />
03 Qaul - Man Kunto Maula<br />
04 Sawan Ki Sanjh (Raaga Shyam Kalyan) - Tarana (Raaga Gaud Sarang)<br />
05 Mein Kaisi Karun<br />
06 Baro Ghee Ke Diyena Bhaile Aamana Ke Lallana<br />
07 Mare Bane Ke Baat Na Puchcho<br />
08 Mun Bhajras Har Dum Ali Ali<br />
09 Phool Rahin Sarsoon (Raaga Bahar)<br />
10 Kagawa Bole Mori Atariya (Raaga Shankara)<br />
11 Raaga Hameer<br />
12 Rasiya Ao Na (Raaga Maru Bihag) - Aey Daiya Kahan Gaey Ve Log (Raaga Bilawal)<br />
13 Chaap Tilak Sub Chehney<br />
14 Chaleya Re Pardesi Naina Mila Ke - Bara Jori Nahi Re - Tarana (Raaga Bhairavi)<br />
15 Conversation between Abba and Munshi Raziuddin<br />
16 Ab Ke Sawan Ghar Aaja (Raaga Tilak Kamod)<br />
17 Mangal Karan Soondhar (Raaga Tilak Kamod)<br />
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bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-14002667068571454612008-07-25T21:56:00.043-04:002023-12-20T21:44:29.641-05:001988 Mehfil - Munshi Raziuddin & Sons<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This session commemorated the first anniversary of my mother's passage, and was held at our house in Defence Society, Karachi. We thought it befitting of her memory to hold a qawwali mehfil to listen to some of her favourite music. From the outset, the atmosphere was charged. The underlying theme was one of remembrance. The emotional undertones made Razi Mian and his sons surpass themselves and almost every piece in this session is a gem.<br />
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The <span style="font-style: italic;"><b>Qaul - Mun Kunto Maula</b> </span> set the stage, with its ethereal alaap. I feel that this is their best rendition of this Qaul. And while the 1969 Manzoor Niazi aur Hamnawa version (<a href="http://qaul.blogspot.com/2008/05/1969-mehfil-qawwals-raziuddin-niazi.html" target="_blank">link</a>) is unsurpassed, the version sung at this session is technically brilliant.<br />
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<br /><img alt="1988 Troupe" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-qx-aCE4qDwbzsulTqBS2phyphenhypheneEIeL1AKTY4SU_0p-de4D6oph4bj5ED3yrThTRjlZN4o7wzqZYDHux3g_W8L1q30RPexNhs6BzdV5LeWgur20Nkm3uFEPb4pSRBsPD_dqruOua8eCnA/s400/1988%20Mehfil.JPG" /><br />1988 Session - Munshi Razi & Troupe - Masters of the Art</center>
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They next went into a grand rendition of a combination of Raaga Adana and Bahaar, the Adana was set to the apt bandish <b><span style="font-style: italic;">Tairay Darbar Main Ayin Hun</span></b>. This rendition was sung with Ayaz at his best. In this piece and in subsequent pieces, his galaakari is both complex and sweet. This is the very gaayaki angh of vocal traditions that is championed by Vilayat Khan and his Gharaana on the sitar. Ironically, Ayaz consciously modulates and emulates the melodic structure of the sitar rendition of the raaga, and it seems that the sitarist seeks to outdo the vocalist and vice versa: I cannot make up my mind as to which is sweeter, Vilayat Khan on the sitar or Ayaz's vocal expression.<br />
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The Bahar was expressed through the bandish <b><span style="font-style: italic;">Phool Rahi Phulwari</span></b>, in recognition of the fact that all my mother’s children and grandchildren were there, a rare occurrence since we are spread all over the world. A lovely touch was when Razi Mian said <span style="font-style: italic;">'Yeh baat yaadh rakhni chaahye kay jin ki yaad mein mehfil ho rahi hay yeh un ki phoolwari phool rahi hay.’</span> I was moved by this observation and I put some money in my elder son Juni’s hand (he was not yet 5 years old) and asked him to offer <span style="font-style: italic;">bail</span> to Razi Mian, thinking Juni would put it at his feet, as I usually did. Instead, he toddled over, and lifted Razi Mian's cap and put the money on his head and replaced the cap. I was momentarily shocked at this irreverence. But my son’s actions elicited such a tender response when Razi Mian grasped Juni's little hands, and held them, kissed them and raised them to his eyes...I wished we had been able to videotape this emotional and deeply touching moment!<br />
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The second part of the mehfil started with Raag Shahana, bandish <b><span style="font-style: italic;">Bakhubi hamcho mah tabindah baashi</span></b>, that familiar, classic Ameer Khusro composition. They surprised us, however, by singing something, hitherto unknown to us, in singing Raaga Bhimpalasi in its separate components and then the composite raaga. Popular awareness knows only the latter.<br />
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By the time they got to <b><span style="font-style: italic;">Khabaram Raseeda Imshab</span></b>, after that brilliant rendition of Bhim, Palasi and Bhimpalasi, they were really cooking, in current parlance, and so was the audience. The tarana in Khabaram Raseeda is electrifying!<br />
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<br /><img alt="1988 Mehfil" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6W_P6aj1uAZOMFN2ddhtVCMYKoQxmrqkYpmtJgLB_gC2HBuz-nLtkRjSA3arEINeipubC76SQeIF2s083aD1d38896CL0oB5yS2yZJNO_lbmJYO1Tza-WTo_3k0DWDfiPDiIyVZBvscQ/s400/1988%20Mehfil%20-2.JPG" /><br />1988 Session - Asif Mamu, Ali Mamu, Kiki Mamu, Baboo Mamu...</center>
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If there is a favourite part (it is difficult to choose favourites in such a stellar mehfil) it is the performance captured in Vol. III. The <b><span style="font-style: italic;">Chaap Tilak</span></b> rendition presents a medley of raags, from Bilawal to Mand to Maru Behag to Kalawati. The initial bandish — <b><span style="font-style: italic;">Aey Dayyah Kahan Gaey veh Logh</span></b>, in Raaga Bilawal — set a powerful, plaintive context for the rest of this piece. And they have drawn bandishes from all sorts of poets to retain the thread of remembrance. It requires an incredible mastery to sustain the melodic continuity with all these raagas being blended, not to mention the poets and poems they have drawn from to maintain a singular poetic context.<br />
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They also sang a beautiful Hameer, my mother's favourite raaga, which caused a bit of an emotional tug. Every one of their renditions of this raag is special, but this one seems unique in its vibrancy.<br />
<br />
Another novel presentation was delivered when they broke out into something we had never heard, the poem <b><span style="font-style: italic;">Yaad Hai Kuchch Bhi Hamaari Kanhaiya</span></b>, Radha's plaintive plea to an absent Krishna, after he leaves her to claim his kingdom. This was, for me at least, a new discovery in their repertoire.<br />
<br />
Abu Mohammad and Fareed Ayaz had gained great confidence, and we agreed that they were ready for international exposure. The next year, a tour was organized, covering London, Vienna and Amsterdam. It was done on a less-than-shoestring budget and marked the beginning of a rich itinerary of international travel for Fareed Ayaz, Abu Mohammad and their group.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhtkI9vcQsI0v2OaeRqNogLTMezyONso6X_WAuWVpFolqJXQIAmuV14MiAjxOnNpQvIz_wgULhoasYsWW-tjycWr_S6hLIFQms-eD-q4iQyziI3sAqRse1_menooh8vGnPifjIbSkBpI/s1600/1988+Qawwali+-+Trio.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhtkI9vcQsI0v2OaeRqNogLTMezyONso6X_WAuWVpFolqJXQIAmuV14MiAjxOnNpQvIz_wgULhoasYsWW-tjycWr_S6hLIFQms-eD-q4iQyziI3sAqRse1_menooh8vGnPifjIbSkBpI/s400/1988+Qawwali+-+Trio.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<center>
L to R: Abu Muhammad, Late Mr. Mehdi Hasnain (mehfil host), Munshi Razi, Fareed Ayaz </center>
<br />
All in all, this is probably the best session in our collection of their performances. Their enthusiasm and energy was matched by that of the audience. Baboo Mamoo (the famous Naseer Haidar of IAL Karachi), Ali Raza and Akhtar Ispahani were in their elements and can be heard expressing their appreciation in terms of great gusto (such as 'Yo!YO!YO!' or 'Hauwwa! HAUWWA! HAUWWA!' during the <span style="font-style: italic;">Chaap Tilak</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Mareez-e-mohabbat</span>) as the evening wore on.<br />
<br />
Talking of my cousin Ali Raza, he was so much in his element. You can hear his daads at the beginning of Track 2 of Volume III. The ghazal being (in my opinion) rather mediocre, I asked him at the end of this piece: <span style="font-style: italic;">Meer Sahib is main kya khasiyat dekhi aap ne?</span> And he replied: <span style="font-style: italic;">Yaar Asoo, bas aisay hee liay daad main ne dee in (ie Qawwallon) ka haunsla barrhanay kay liay</span>, at which point I replied: <span style="font-style: italic;">Yaar in logon ka haunsla asmanon tak pohoncha hua hay, aur aap us say bhi agay barhana chah rahain hain?</span> And we both burst out in laughter.<br />
<br />
I see Ali's smiling face before me at this time.... No mehfil will ever be the same without him. I dedicate this posting on the blog to his memory.—<b><i>Asif Mamu </i></b><br />
<br />
<center>
<br /><img alt="Ali - Haal" height="320" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/bohotkhoob/SIqPlPta4pI/AAAAAAAAAFA/jUKuuE5FGeI/Ali%20Haal%202.JPG?imgmax=512" width="214" /><br />Ali Mamu immersed in state of haal at a qawwali in 2007.</center>
<br />
The Qawwalis sung were:<br />
<br />
<b>Volume I</b><br />
1. Qaul: "Man Kunto Maula" in Raaga Shudh Kalyan<br />
2. Tairay Darbar Main Ayin Hun - Phool rahi Phulwari<br />
3. Mere bane ki Baat Na Puchcho<br />
<br />
<b>Volume II</b><br />
1. Composition by Ameer Khusro "Bakhubi Ham Cho Meh" in Raaga Shahana<br />
2. Hajrat Khaja sung khailiye dhamal<br />
3. Raaga Bhim<br />
4. Raaga Palasi & Raaga Bhimpalasi<br />
5. Ghazal by Ameer Khusro - "Khabaram Raseeda Imshab"<br />
<br />
<b>Volume III</b><br />
1. Raaga medley — starting with "Chaap Tilak Sab Cheeney"<br />
2. Chale Jaiyo Bedarda<br />
3. Raaga Hameer<br />
4. Ghazal by Shaji<br />
5. Yaadh Hai Kuchch bhi Hamaari Kanhaiyya - Tarana in Raaga Tilak Kamod<br />
6. Ghazal by Qamar Jalalvi - "Mareez-e-Mohabbat"<br />
<br />
<br />
EDITED on 1 August 2008: Rearranged the sequence of qawwali tracks to match the order found in the original cassette tapes. Modified the text to: reflect the fixed sequence, correct the name of the raag for the <span style="font-style: italic;">Tairay Darbar</span> piece, and add Asif mamu's recollections regarding the <span style="font-style: italic;">Phool Rahi Phulwari</span> piece. <br />
<br />
--<br />
Notes:<br />
Text of blog post taken from "Notes on the Music" by Asif Mamu.</div>
bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-69843174050236750262008-07-09T21:53:00.008-04:002010-08-04T20:30:24.042-04:00Remembering Munshi Raziuddin on the Fifth Anniversary of His Passing AwayBy Saeed Malik, "Qawwali loses a golden voice" - DAWN Images - Pakistan<br />July 20, 2003<br /><br />Renowned qawwali singer Munshi Raziuddin died in Karachi on July 2, 2003. He was 84. Born in Delhi in 1919, Raziuddin was the grandson of Ustad Umroa Khan, the court musician of the largest princely state of the subcontinent, Hyderabad Deccan.<br /><br />He learnt the rudiments of classical music first from his older brother Abdul Hameed Khan and later his paternal uncle Abdul Karim Khan. Finally, he became a pupil of his brother-in-law Ustad Sardar Khan Dehliwale, who was the grandson of Mian Qutab Bakhsh alias Taan Rus Khan, the court musician of Bahadhur Shah Zafar, last Mughal king of Muslim India.<br /><br />After completing his training in classical vocalization, he joined Deccan Radio of Osmania State, which he served for several years with distinction. He also served as a member of the Board of Selection (of new artists) constituted by All India Radio. Other members of the Board were such distinguished luminaries of the music world as Pundit Ratanjanker, Ustad Mushtaq Husain Khan and Ustad Wilayat Husain Khan. Dr. Balkrishna V. Keskar, the then information minister of India, tried to persuade him to stay on in the country but Raziuddin, who wanted to join his family members in Karachi, chose to take up permanent residence in Pakistan where he founded a qawwal party. It consisted mostly of the immediate members of his family and a few shagirds or students.<br /><br />In a meeting about six months ago in Lahore, I inquired about the suffix of Munshi with his name. He disclosed that since he had succeeded in earning the degree of a Munshi Fazil (Honours in Urdu) at a relatively young age, he was considered a well read man in the family, most of whom wanted him to write the asthai-antaras of the raagas for them in his Urdu handwriting, which was considered beautiful.<br /><br />"Thus I became the 'official' scribe for several members of my family who later started calling me Munshi," he said with a glint of pride in his eyes.<br /><br />Besides being the leader of a frontline qawwal party of Pakistan, Munshi Raziuddin was an excellent classical vocalist and a competent teacher. Music was in his blood. It was the profession of his ancestors that went back several generations. One of his sons-in-law, Ustad Naseeruddin Saami and his sons are well-known classical singers of Pakistan who set up a music academy in Lahore recently.<br /><br />It is said that a good qawwal has to be a good classical vocalist as well to remain in the creative forefront. The point has been well substantiated by several renowned qawwal parties before and after the division of British India. The late Munshi Raziuddin Qawwal was known for his command over the art of qawwali, as well as classical vocalization, a demonstration of which he made in a programme at the Lahore Arts Council a few months ago. He claimed to have in his repertoire hundreds of asthai-antaras (compositions) of different raagas.<br /><br />(...)<br /><br />His in-depth knowledge of the theoretical and practical aspects of music and qawwali earned the late Munshi another approbation. He was regarded as the walking encyclopaedia of music by a large number of professional musicians in both Pakistan and India.bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-44720812236717774052008-06-28T00:22:00.029-04:002023-10-23T15:21:25.055-04:00Ustad Nathoo Khan - Sarangi Maestro<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Nathoo Khan was arguably the best <i>sarangi nawaz</i> in the subcontinent in his time. I do not know his antecedents and lineage, but he was one of the artistes brought over to Radio Pakistan, Karachi, from All India Radio, by the Grand Old Man of Broadcasting, Z. A. Bukhari [1]. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Nathoo Khan was a <i>malang</i>, and his performances would reflect the <i>must</i> in his spirit. He would twitch and jerk along with every turn of musical phrase, creating a unity of body, soul and instrument—something that is achieved only by musicians like Zakir Hussain and Chaurasia these days.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
"Nathoo Khan was a permanent fixture at Radio Pakistan Karachi, lounging around the garden of the premises when he wasn't performing as accompanist, soloist or even time-segment filler. PTV in the earlier years (around 1965 or '66) did a documentary on him, showing him in his meager home, where he talked about his music and played his collection of various stringed instruments, all of which he handled with effortless mastery. It was one of the most memorable documentaries done by the stalwarts of PTV Karachi.<br />
<br />
"In order to get him his well-overdue recognition and improve his means, Omar Kureishi had him appointed to the PIA Arts Academy where he directed and composed a few orchestrals—not very memorable, most of it was the insipid music destined to be churned out over the airplane public address, to enhance the stupor of passengers. However he did compose a score for a dance ensemble that performed on stage in Karachi in quite a grand event. That was before breathing was deemed to be un-Islamic in Pakistan. Omar wrote a piece on Nathoo Khan, in his reminiscent Dawn columns, 'The Past is Another Country' recalling a trip of the PIA Arts Academy to Geneva. They stayed at the Intercontinental, Geneva. Nathoo Khan's rather unkempt and threadbare appearance led the hotel staff to think that he was a menial, and they offered to feed him in the hotel kitchen. Omar, who was leading the delegation, went ballistic. Nathoo Khan ate at the regular restaurant and went on to enthrall the audiences.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgy7AsNEmx8hyd5pMlNHnwU1zMXih93lbNXMthuegYe0jXIXcS-xrduNvYN7ZZ4tzimVpnNu6ZcTcQ0X2PAVoboXwfvEkcfMa7V40-Kb_VAERfm2lmq1XumsjaYqFx1Svqsxu7-QdzmYAjLhhqPtEvvgfetz49YAnIHP8wpymibrBVfnnV4cF-LOItCx6E" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="790" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgy7AsNEmx8hyd5pMlNHnwU1zMXih93lbNXMthuegYe0jXIXcS-xrduNvYN7ZZ4tzimVpnNu6ZcTcQ0X2PAVoboXwfvEkcfMa7V40-Kb_VAERfm2lmq1XumsjaYqFx1Svqsxu7-QdzmYAjLhhqPtEvvgfetz49YAnIHP8wpymibrBVfnnV4cF-LOItCx6E" width="205" /></a></div><br />
<br />
"The sarangi is one of the most complex instruments. While it has only three main strings, some thirty five to forty resonant strings provide it a unique timbre, and the older the sarangi, the better. Quite literally, a sarangi is considered coming into full song when it has been seasoned and played over a hundred years or so. The finger work is particularly difficult. Originally, masters of <i>khyaal</i> looked down on the sarangi and the sarangi-nawaz, as it was usual instrumental accompaniment to female singers, most of whom were courtesans. However around the thirties the tonal range of the sarangi was increasingly appreciated and made it the accompanying instrument of choice for the great masters of vocal Indian classical music. Nowadays the harmonium is more popular as it is much easier to play, and not as sensitive to variations in humidity and temperature. I dislike the harmonium. It is flat, noisy and tends to dominate the voice rather than augment it.<br />
<br />
"In the late eighties I attempted to collect Nathoo Khan's music in homage to his memory. It is a sign of our times and our assault on our cultural heritage that there was not a single recording that seemed to have survived in the Radio Pakistan archives. There must have been hundreds of hours of his music in that place. No one in PTV remembered the documentary that, like the audiotapes, was rerecorded over.<br />
<br />
"The rendition of <i>Tilak Kamod</i> was copied from an original reel-to-reel tape recording at a concert at the home of Isaac (he went only by that name, none of his many friends remembered the other) one of Karachi's great aesthetes. The performance conjures the memory of the manic restlessness of the Ustaad as he tries to squeeze out the last possibility offered by the raaga. The <i>jhala</i> is particularly exhilarating as the Ustaad draws plaintive elongations of particular phrases.<br />
<br />
"Nathoo Khan died penurious with no musical successor." [2]</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
-----<br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">[1] The two source we've consulted on Nathu Khan's biography disagree on his lineage and musical pedigree. We reproduce them below:</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Ustad Nathoo Khan was born 1924 in Jandiala Guru, Amritsar, Punjab, to Maula Baksh, sarangi nawaz. He received his initial musical training from his father and later from his paternal uncle Feroz Khan, Ustad Ahmadi Khan, and Ustad Zahoori Khan. Ustad Nathoo Khan passed away on 17 April 1971 in Munich, West Germany. Source: <i>Pakistan Chronicle</i> by Aqeel Abbas Jafri, Virsah : Fazl Sons, Karachi, 2010.</div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">Another source states: Nathu Khan's father Baba Ballay was a Tabla player. He got his initial training of sarangi playing from his uncle Ferozdin and other elders of the family. Later he became a formal disciple of the great Ahmadi Khan of Delhi. He also learned intricacies of classical music from Maula Bakh of the Talwandi Gharana. Source: http://zohaibhassanamritsari.com/Amritsari_Historical_Figures.html</div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">[2] Text taken from "Notes on the Music" by Asif Mamu.</div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"><br /></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<hr />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold;">Review of Ustad Nathu Khan's Tilak Kamod</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold;">by Dr. Kashyap Dave</span><br />
25 October 2008<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTj7AyPQtipMKxxbWF0vPkovmKE64SK42_h9h_xTR-fx2jGZAWtYcyWnCgDfRmhTMYNP7oO9TXmu1_WG_sWg3cWjUbWcOPF7UVVA-tT4X8u_PE30fC19563ME6-QLJrOzt5B42AAseDyk/s1600/dr_kashyap.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTj7AyPQtipMKxxbWF0vPkovmKE64SK42_h9h_xTR-fx2jGZAWtYcyWnCgDfRmhTMYNP7oO9TXmu1_WG_sWg3cWjUbWcOPF7UVVA-tT4X8u_PE30fC19563ME6-QLJrOzt5B42AAseDyk/s200/dr_kashyap.jpg" width="195" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Kashyap Dave <span class="st">—</span> <br />
sarangi expert and teacher</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ustad Nathu Khan is my favourite Pakistani sarangi player apart from Ustad Hamid Hussain and Ustad Zahoori Khan.<br />
<br />
I would like to divide my review under the following headings: <br />
<br />
1. Instrument <br />
2. Instrumentalist <br />
3. Performance <br />
a. Technicalities <br />
b. Justice to the raag <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Instrument</span><br />
<br />
Ustadji is using a medium sized Meruth-made sarangi with a narrow sound box, the wood of the sarangi being porous with light weight. The skin (madhAv) is made out of pakki khaal; hence it is white/faint yellow coloured with lots of visible dots. (Pakki khaal is that part of the goat skin which comes from the back or the sides of the animal. This skin is hairy (hence the dots), strong, and thin at the same time. It is preferred to kachi khaal (which comes from the belly) and it maintains tension owing to natural rigidity and is less subject to changes in atmospheric moisture due to its inherent dryness. These qualities allow for minimum fluctuation of notes in the tuned sarangi.) <br />
<br />
The main playing gut strings are relatively thin compared to what Ustadji used in subsequent years. The number of sympathetic strings used here are finer, their gauge being either 30 or 32. The bow is relatively small sized and tied with horse hair (rather than with nylon) and Ustadji plays it using its edge, rather than its full width. <br />
<br />
The sarangi is in the process of setting - maybe the skin was recently changed or Ustadji has recently adjusted the taawiz (the two small flat bridges near the crown). Here he has kept the jawaaris of the taawiz 'open' to allow the vibrating sympathetic strings to strike the flat bridges and give off a peculiarly nice and persistent sound. In later years he used to keep them 'closed' (which prevents the vibrating sympathetic strings from striking the flat bridges and so encourages only the sound coming out of the chamber). <br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Instrumentalist</span><br />
<br />
Undoubtedly this recording is from Ustadji's younger days, and his energy flows forth from all sides. The fingers are thin and he wants to convey everything in his control within a short span of time (and he does so very successfully). However, age related maturity is still evolving, though he is not restless at anytime and delivers a great exhibition of various technical aspects. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Performance</span><br />
<br />
a. Technicalities<br />
<br />
The performance demonstrates his extraordinary command over ALL the aspects of sarangi playing, including: <br />
<br />
- Variation in application of force, by making it low or high as per the requirement of the composition and its sentiment, <br />
<br />
- Variety in bowing patterns, by using its full length, and cutting, or advancing with mild stoppage, etc, <br />
<br />
- Diversity in left hand techniques, through utilizing fingering, gutta, gamaks (forward, reverse), jumps, and ghissa, <br />
<br />
- Combination of techniques with both hands, by playing notes with the left hand and bowing with the right hand, as demanded by the lyrics, at many places, to give the composition a vocal as well as an instrumental touch. <br />
<br />
In short, he has made his sarangi 'PLAY' (tantkAri ang) as well as 'SING' ('gAyki ang) with equal command!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
___________</div>
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Dr. Kashyap Dave hails from Ahmedabad, India. In his early years, he was trained in vocal Indian Classical Music. In later years, after establishing himself in medical practice as a physician, he turned to the sarangi and for 12 years studied under Ustad Sultan Khan, world-renowned sarangi maestro. Dr. Kashyap splits his spare time among a variety of interests, including listening to the choicest vocal, sarangi, and been recordings; fixing automobiles; and restoring old sarangis, constantly striving for the best available tones from the instruments. We are extremely grateful to him for taking the time to write this review at our request. </span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Dr. Kashayp offers online lessons in sarangi, dilruba, and vocal music. His students reside in different parts of the globe. It always pleases him to see their dedication and enthusiasm, which he considers "an encouraging sign of the craving that exists for our cultural heritage." <a href="http://www.facebook.com/sarangi.lessons.online">Dr. Kashyap's Sarangi Lessons</a>.</span><br />
<br /></div>
bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-29494300312868040892008-06-22T03:27:00.017-04:002018-02-25T03:25:52.768-05:00A Mehfil with Amanat Ali - Fateh Ali<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was the summer of 1970. I had taken off on the Great European Tour, after having messed around in Karachi for two years after high school, at Lintas. The kindly tyrant, C. A. Rauf, head honcho at Lintas, had granted me a month of leave so that I could assuage my wanderlust. I visited my sister in Paris—but that summer's escapades are another story.<br />
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<br />
The immediate point was that my mother was in the throes of loneliness with none of her brood at home. Amanat and Fateh were visiting Karachi from Lahore to perform at PTV. She saw the televised performance [1] and, in order to distract herself, asked my father to have them over at a music session at the house the next day. He managed to contact them through intermediaries, to ascertain that they were free that evening. However they asked for a fee of five hundred rupees—a princely sum those days for a government servant. Abba conveyed his thanks and declined the concert saying that the price was a bit steep. The concert would not have taken place had they not called, an hour or two later, saying they would sing for whatever remuneration Abba could afford. The probable reason for this concession is that they knew our family, since they hailed from the <i>Patiala Gharaana</i>. Our family hails from Patiala and was, for generations, aficionados and patrons of some of the (minor) musicians of that tradition. My maternal grandfather and Abba had maintained contact with Amanat and Fateh, post-partition. Ammi and Abba cobbled together an audience of friends and family who could come at short notice.<br />
<br />
They sang from about nine in the evening until dawn. It was due to the heightening of the emotions that caused Amanat to break down while singing the closing notes of <i>Bhairavi</i>. <br />
<br />
Amanat and Fateh were the sons of Ustaad Akhtar Husain Khan and grandsons of Ustaad Ali Bux Khan, a founder of the Patiala Gharana. In a display of their unique militaristic style, the <i>Maharajas</i> of Patiala awarded Ali Bux the rank of <i>Jarnail</i> (General) and he was referred to by that appellation. Ali Bux hailed from Kasur, I believe. The soil of that district must have something in it, as Kasuri musicians (Ustaad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan being another great scion of Kasur, and the other major figure of the Patiala Gharana, and Nur Jehan its best known musical daughter) are legendary throughout the subcontinent. Kasur found its rival in Shaam Chaurasi (a curious name that translates in English to 'evening eighty-four') in Jullundar and in Kirana, near Delhi, both districts are also renowned for their musicians, and for the musical traditions they endowed. Today, in Pakistan, the Kasuris are prominent in sending politicians to Islamabad. It would have been altogether more benign had they stayed with the music.<br />
<br />
Amanat and Fateh, by training and talent, were perfect complements. Amanat, with his slightly nasal yet sweet melodic voice, held the high notes while Fateh had the heavier voice and a mastery over <i>galakari</i>.<br />
<br />
That evening Amanat and Fateh were accompanied by Ustaad Hamid Husain on the <i>sarangi</i> and by Ustaad Allah Ditta on the <i>tabla</i>. Hamid Husain, also a master of the sarangi, was diametrically opposed to Nathoo Khan. Both his appearance and music were of a controlled serenity, in contrast to the manic effort of the other. Despite his rustic rural name, Allah Ditta was the personification of dignity. Dressed in an immaculate <i>sherwani</i> and with an aristocratic visage, he would furnish a subtle rhythmic backdrop for the lead artist. In those days, the tabla had not gone through the Zakir Husain Revolution and had not evolved from a rhythmic accompaniment into a melodic instrument in its own right.<br />
<br />
The recordings of <i>Saakh</i> and <i>Bageshwari</i> are all that remain of the memory of that evening. In typical Patiala Gharana style, the <i>alap</i> is brief, the <i>jor</i> contains the substance of the expose, and the <i>jhala</i> presents an electrifying crescendo with its <i>taranas</i>. What never ceases to amuse is the earthy Punjabi used in their asides to the audience. It stands in stark contrast to the pristine Urdu/Purbi used for the <i>bandishes</i> of the song being sung. Four reel-to-reel tapes were produced off an Akai deck that evening, but three of these were stolen when the family moved residence in 1974. This tape survived only because Abba had lent it to a friend. Amanat died in the early seventies. Fateh, in shock after Amanat's death, did not sing for many years. After Amanat's death Fateh contacted Abba for a copy of the tapes. He was overwhelmed when informed that most of the music was lost.[2]<br />
<br />
--<br />
Footnotes:<br />
[1] An early 1970's PTV performance by the duo of Raag Saakh is available on YouTube. This gorgeous performance could well have been the one that my mother watched on TV leading to the private session that is the subject of this post. Watch the PTV recording in three parts: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWtaPZvHIdQ">one</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpw4Ze_RoQQ">two</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKeOT2ig9nE">three</a>. Such a pity about the damage to the video and loss of quality!<br />
<br />
[2] Text taken from "Notes on the Music" by Asif Mamu.</div>
bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-63683292830771728092008-06-10T15:06:00.025-04:002016-07-23T17:56:18.515-04:001984 Mehfil - Munshi Raziuddin & Sons<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Munshi Raziuddin was largely out of circulation in the Karachi 'society' circles, during the late seventies. His patrons began to pass away, or fade from prominence, audiences were demanding the more rock 'n roll type of Qawwali. Above all, the break-up of the Manzur Qawwal group left him without accompanists, as Abu Mohammad and Fareed Ayaz were not yet mature enough to come out on their own. He was, as one saw, going through a hiatus, although he bore his difficulties with grace and equanimity.
<br />
<br />
My elder brother and I were visiting Karachi, and Razi Mian came over one day to call on our father. We talked and he told us that his sons were performing these days. An appointment was set, and since our mother was a bit under the weather, we arranged a session at a friend's house in Defense. This was a stag session.
<br />
<br />
Most (unpleasantly) memorable was the presence of a local man of letters, scion of one of Karachi's leading 'intellectual' families. Unfortunately, his vast knowledge of Indian classical music was exceeded only by his obnoxiousness in showing it off. In this session, he repeatedly interrupted the singers, asking them to switch from one raaga to another, upsetting their concentration and frustrating the full exposition. We heaved a collective sigh of relief when he prominently and loudly announced his departure, somewhere in mid session. I remember saying, sotto voce, <i>Janaa hai to dafaa ho, kiss ney rokaa hai?</i> Raziuddin and his sons took it all in stride and rendered a performance that convinced one of their mastery of the classical genre.
<br />
<br />
The Maru Behag with which they started this recital, remains my favourite. Maru Behag holds a very special place in the heart. In 1969, my father and I did a driving tour of the north of Pakistan, and we found ourselves in Kalaam in northern Swat. We stayed in a rest house on a plateau above what was then a tiny hamlet. We sat in quiet solitude after dinner, on the patio of the rest house, with the moon casting a silvery glow. In front of us was a majestic mountain, Falakh Seher, which is about 17,000 feet high—a mere hill by Himalayan standards. Below us was the river Swat, with its gushing white waters. The sounds of the river and the rustle of the crystalline breeze in the pine trees providing a soothing aural backdrop. Across the narrow valley a young shepherd boy played the flute to no apparent melody, dawdling over random notes, as young boys are prone to do. And the simple transistor radio we had with us was receiving an All India Radio broadcast of Malavika Kaanan singing Maru Behag, in a rendition that radiated a teasing sensuality, despite the crackling of the airwaves and the puny size of the speaker in the radio. The perfection of all this harmony caused me to tell my father that this was the moment to leave this world, since never again would one reach such a state of absolute spiritual peace. He laughed, and told me that I had a few years ahead of me, so should perish the thoughts of an exit …
<br />
<br />
Also the Kedaara—a favourite of mine—is quite special.
<br />
<br />
The recording was made on my father's Akai cassette deck, bought in 1972—a machine that still soldiers on. Says a lot for Akai.—<b><i>Asif Mamu</i></b><br />
<br />
The raagas sung are:
<br />
<br />
Volume I
<br />
1. Rasiya Ao Na (Raaga Maru Behag)
<br />
2. Mangal Karan Soondhar (Raaga Tilak Kamod)
<br />
3. Qaul - Man Kunto Maula (Raaga Shudh Kalyan)
<br />
<br />
Volume II
<br />
1. Jia Chahe so Kahe (Raaga Mishra Pilu) - Tarana (Raaga Zeelaf)
<br />
2. Chura Jhanake / Paiyan Paroon Gi Palaga Na Daroon Gi (Raaga Jaijaiwanti)
<br />
3. Keenay Jattan Re Ghanay/Lagi Ri Mein Tau Charran Tehare (Raaga Bilawal)
<br />
4. Ay Daiya Kahan Gaye Veh Log (Raaga Bilawal) / Teri Re Mein Tau Charan Lagi<br />
5. Sej Nis Neend Na Aave / Ay Sukhe Daiya (Raaga Kedara)<br />
6. Mati Malaniya/Hoon Tau Janam Chadde (Raaga Kamod)
<br />
7. Jhanjhan Jhanjhan Payal Baaje Reh (Raaga Nut-Bihag) - Jhana Jhanan Baje Bichwa (Raaga Chayya-Nut).
<br />
<br />
Volume III
<br />
1. Harva Mora Re/Guru Binay Kaisey Gun Gavain (Raaga Yaman Kalyan)
<br />
2. Preet Na Jane / Mori Bangari / Kangana (Raaga Malkauns)
<br />
3. Ali Ghar Deyo Badhayi - Aaj Badhawa Sajan Ghar
<br />
4. Hajrat Khaja Sung Khailiey Dhamaal (Raaga Bahar)
<br />
<br />
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<br />
Updated on 26 August 2010: Corrected track titles per Cirrhosed's comments. Many thanks to him for the feedback!
<br />
<br />
--
<br />
References:
<br />
1. The text for this post was taken from Asif Mamu's "Notes on the Music".</div>
bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-21544252118092910962008-05-28T11:10:00.016-04:002015-08-20T20:18:02.111-04:00Munshi Raziuddin Ahmad Khan: A Recollection<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-weight: bold;">A Mehfil at a Musical Crossroad</span><br />
<br />
"It was the winter of 1966. My father was Collector of Customs Karachi, and for some reason the Customs Officer's Association decided to hold a musical evening at the Customs Club. At his suggestion they invited a Qawwal Group called <span style="font-style: italic;">Manzoor Ahmed Niazi aur Hamnava</span>--he had heard them and liked their music. And since my father was the chief guest it was mandatory that the family attend. I went with some reluctance, being an adolescent with a western education. I was more into the raging musical earthquake brought about by the Beatles, and I really didn't look forward to another evening of indecipherable and boring Desi Classical music. The pill, however, was sweetened by the fact that some of my cousins would be there.<br />
<br />
"The performance started and there was this diminutive but distinctly attractive man sitting in the middle of the front row of the Qawwals, conducting the choral ensemble. His gestures, which seemed staccato and comical at first, gradually absorbed the listener with the charisma they radiated. The music was moderately boring, and I tempered the boredom by making eyes at a Norwegian moll brought along by a guest who was a prominent Karachi industrialist of the time. The attempts to gain the lady's attention were roundly unsuccessful, so the mind wandered back to the music and the spectacle of the performance. Towards the end of the concert they sang Qamar Jalalvi's <span style="font-style: italic;">Mareez-i-Mohabbat</span> which turned out to be a terribly flirtatious Ghazal and got the audience rocking. They rounded off the performance by singing <span style="font-style: italic;">Dumha Dum Must Kalandar</span>. The rhythmic brilliance was such that I was hooked, no contest offered by the Beatles.<br />
<br />
"Therein lies the beginning of a forty-year association with the house of Munshi Raziuddin. In the earlier days, us kids would think that he was Manzoor Qawwal and would refer to him as such. This misapprehension was prompted by the fact that Munshi Raziuddin was conductor, lead singer and master of ceremonies of the troupe and it was only logical that he be THE Manzoor Qawwal.<br />
<br />
"The troupe broke up in the mid-sixties. With time, Bahuddin became the most prominent. But with the emergence of Abu Mohammad and Fareed Ayaz, Raziuddin's offspring have become Pakistan's foremost contemporary Qawwals, and after Nusrat Fateh Ali's demise, the most internationally traveled. They are too classical to attain Nusrat's World Music status, but it does the soul a lot of good to see that they have a devoted audience.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Friend, Philosopher and Guide</span><br />
<br />
"Munshi Raziuddin's home in Karachi, near Gandhi Gardens, is a wonderfully chaotic place in an overcrowded neighborhood that never sleeps. The home, always warm and welcoming, abounds with several children and countless grandchildren. Munshi Raziuddin had his room, at the street level, abutting a drain, where he would stay among books, manuscripts and magic potions, very much a presence in the neighborhood. One spent many an evening here, sitting in cross-legged comfort in impromptu <span style="font-style: italic;">mehfils</span> where Razi Mian or his sons or Naseeruddin Saami, his nephew and son-in-law, would provide demonstrations of the intricacies of one or the other raaga. At other occasions time would be occupied by genial conversation covering various matters, spiritual, musical or worldly. This home has hosted many a scholar, singer or aficionado eager to steep in Razi Mian's musical tradition.<br />
<br />
"Munshi Raziuddin descends from Tanras Khan, a major figure of the Delhi Gharaana who performed and was prominent in the court of the last Mughal emperor, Bahadur Shah Zaffar. He spent his earlier years in Hyderabad Deccan. His desire for learning and his inquisitiveness caused him to master just about any language or dialect spoken in Northern India as well as Arabic and Persian, and to travel the length and breadth of pre-partition India, as well as the Middle East. His first trip to Europe was to Paris, in the inter-war period, when he was a youth. He accompanied some Sufi with whom he was rather taken at the time. He did not visit the continent again until 1990.<br />
<br />
"His spoken Urdu had a mellifluous beauty that is no longer encountered. His mastery of poetry enabled him to weave a tapestry of expression, combining couplets from diverse poets to create a singular poetic context. His knowledge of the raaga was absolute, and rare was a song where he would stay within the confines of a single raaga, choosing instead a medley of raagas, poets, couplets and languages to create the musical experience. He successfully resisted the urge to resort to the vulgarization of Qawwali and stayed in the <span style="font-style: italic;">gayaki</span> as had passed through the generations of his lineage. Despite his adherence to tradition, he was intensely curious about the contemporary world. In his first visit to Vienna, one of the first things he wanted to hear was Michael Jackson, who was the rage at the time. On hearing some of my children's favourite tracks, he proceeded to try and spot the raagas that could be the root of Michael's songs. <br />
<br />
"In addition to his domains of musical knowledge he studied and practiced <span style="font-style: italic;">Yunani</span> medicine, and was a learned Sufi Scholar. He had that rarely encountered intellectual clarity to be able to express simple answers to the most complex problems. He was a cook of fairly fearsome proportions and had a terrific—and irreverent—sense of humour. In later years he took to distinctly eccentric forms of dress. Despite his flamboyance, he was modest in spirit. My wife, in the Indian gesture of respect, would bend down and touch his feet on meeting him, and one could see his embarrassment at being so deferentially greeted by a <span style="font-style: italic;">Saydani</span>. <br />
<br />
"Above all, he was a friend, philosopher and guide. His passing has left an unfillable spiritual and intellectual vacuum. He rests at the elbow of the main mausoleum of the <span style="font-style: italic;">Mewa Shah</span> Graveyard with a prominent sign adorning the canopy over his grave. In Urdu, it says 'Hazrat Munshi Raziuddin Ahmad Khan, Qawwal', and a couplet expressing his desire to change the world with his music. A simple sarcophagus covers the grave, and visitors have draped <span style="font-style: italic;">chadars</span> over it, in reverence to the man's memory. Weighing the chadars down are two pieces of marble with the English 'Welcome' and the Urdu '<span style="font-style: italic;">Khush Amdeed</span>' etched on them. A sweet, warm and naïve touch for a man who was an edifice of knowledge yet never lost his innate innocence and affection for life."<br />
<br />
--<br />
Text taken from Asif Mamu's "Notes on the Music".</div>
bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-87239595470056982922008-05-21T11:09:00.028-04:002021-02-17T23:54:13.492-05:001969 Mehfil - Qawwals Raziuddin, Manzoor, Bahauddin.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"The recording was made in Karachi, a rare and outstanding performance by the entire original troupe <span style="font-weight: bold;">Manzoor Ahmed Niazi aur Hamnava</span>. The troupe consisted of four major Qawwals: Manzoor, Bahauddin, Munshi Raziuddin and Iftikhar. In deference to the host of the mehfil, who was a great patron of the Qawwals, Bahauddin accompanied the troupe, despite having established himself independently, a few years earlier.<br />
<br />
"The sheer range of voices and presence of four masters allowed for great Qawwali, as close to the traditional thing as you will hear. Notice the deliberate drawn out expression, the ranges of the <span style="font-style: italic;">taans</span> and the variety of poetry in the couplets. Here there is rhythmically tight, yet languid, repetition of couplets appreciated by the audience. This music has the power to transport the listener to the ecstatic mystical state of the <span style="font-style: italic;">haal</span>.<br />
<br />
"Among the accompanists was a young singer—a couple of years younger than I—who sang with great gusto. His name was Fareed Ayyaz, Munshi Raziuddin's son, who was being inducted into the ranks of the Qawwals.<br />
<br />
"This group of Qawwals were all related and were descendants of the <span style="font-style: italic;">Qawwal Bachche</span>, young men trained by Hazrat Ameer Khusro, seven centuries ago, in the incipient art of devotional music that he had evolved.<br />
<br />
"The troupe broke up in the mid sixties, with Bahauddin, Raziuddin, and Manzoor branching out on their own. Iftikhar died a premature death. Pakistani Qawwali became infinitely poorer for this disintegration." [1]<br />
<br />
The Qawwalis sung were:<br />
<br />
1. Composition by Ameer Khusro in Raaga Tilak Kamod<br />
2. Iqbal's "Shikwa" and "Jawab-I-Shikwa"<br />
3. Qaul — "Man Kunto Maula" and Salaam - "Aal-e-Nabi wa Salwatullah"<br />
4. Qaul — "Ali Imam i Manasto Manam Ghulam i Ali"<br />
5. Ghazal by Ameer Khusro "Ashq-i-Chashme" (<span style="font-size: large;">اشک چشم مان برآمد</span>)<br />
6. Composition by Ameer Khusro "Bakhubi Ham Cho Meh" (<span style="font-size: large;">به خوبی همچو مه</span>) in Raaga Shahana<br />
7. Composition by Ameer Khusro "Ay Sarv-e Nazneen-e-Mun" (<span style="font-size: large;">اے سرو نازنین من</span>) in Raaga Anandi<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">—</span><br />
References:<br />
[1] <span style="font-style: italic;">"Notes on the Music" by Asif Mamu.</span></div>
bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-2426412218219671222008-05-05T23:38:00.019-04:002015-08-20T20:18:25.813-04:00Phool rahi sarson - The yellow mustard blooms<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This qawwali is an all-time favorite. The Purbi lyrics and the <span style="font-style: italic;">raag bahar</span> melody are both very refreshing. A scene of exciting preparation taking place near a blooming yellow mustard field one winter's day is expertly drawn in just a few lines. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>The music builds up in-step with the poetry and reaches its crescendo at the exact moment when the devotees arrive at the <span style="font-style: italic;">dargah</span> of Hazrat Nizamuddin holding colorful bouquets in hand. But one particular devotee cannot be there to make an offering and one finds that despite all the excitement of the music and the scenery the poem is but a poet's confession of a broken promise long overdue.<br /><br />Interestingly, this is not Amir Khusro's kalam. Fareed Ayaz Qawwal credits the Purbi poem to the last Mughal Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar and the composition to his court musician Ustad Tanras Khan. It still features Zafar's takhallus (pen name) "shokh rang" [1].<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Munshi Raziuddin and Sons - phool rahi sarsoon - 1994 <span style="font-style: italic;">mehfil</span></span> :<br /><br /><embed align="middle" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#ffffff" height="334" id="mmwidget" name="mmwidget" quality="high" salign="LT" scale="noscale" src="http://n90.mediamaster.com/player/widget.swf?username=AsifMamu&startpage=For%20qaul.blogspot.com" swliveconnect="true" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="230" wmode="transparent"></embed><br /><br />The Purbi lyrics and their translation [2]:<br /><br />Sakal ban phool rahi sarson,<br />Umbva boray, tesu phulay,<br />Koyal bolay daar daar,<br />Aur gori karat singaar,<br />Malaniyan gadhwa lay aayin karson,<br /><br />Tarah tarah kay phool lagaaye,<br />Lay gadhwa haathan mein aaye.<br />Nijamudin kay darwajay par,<br />Aawan keh gaey Shokh Rung,<br />Aur beet gaye barson.<br /><br />The yellow mustard seeds bloom in every field,<br />Mango buds click open, flame of the forest trees blossom,<br />The koyal chirps from branch to branch,<br />And the fair maiden puts on her make-up,<br />The gardener-girls have brought bouquets,<br /><br />With assorted flowers in arrangements,<br />Devotees arrive, bouquets in hand,<br />To Nizamuddin's doorstep,<br />But Shokh Rung, who had promised to come,<br />Hasn't turned up - its been many years.<br /><br />----------<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">References:</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />[1] "Pak qawwal weaves magic," by Aditi Tandon. The Tribune, India.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(http://www.tribuneindia.com/2005/20050220/punjab1.htm).</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />[2] Lyrics and trans. adapted from: http://www.angelfire.com/sd/urdumedia/lyrics2.html</span></div>
bohotkhoobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04021885057537614689noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-585685489906451430.post-7828633965348165052008-05-03T22:19:00.144-04:002024-01-19T02:54:19.076-05:00Tarana Singing - Ustad Amir Khan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br /><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The <b>Tarana</b> stands as a popular and distinctive genre within Hindustani classical music, characterized by the use of syllables (such as <span style="font-style: italic;">na</span>,<span style="font-style: italic;"> ta</span>,<span style="font-style: italic;"> dar</span>,<span style="font-style: italic;"> tanom</span>,<span style="font-style: italic;"> yala</span>,<span style="font-style: italic;"> yali</span><span>)</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>rather than verses of poetry.<i> </i>The expert singer can perform taranas in a wide variety of raags and taals<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>(beats), with the delivery usually set to medium or fast tempo. The genre is the invention of Hazrat Amir Khusro.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">There is a notable disagreement within the Indian classical music community among the practitioners and researchers about the meanings of tarana phrases. The prevailing belief is that these phrases are either unintelligible sounds or imitations of musical instruments. Ustad Amir Khan (1912 - 1973), the prominent singer and scholar of Hindustani classical music, proposed an intriguing alternative. Having dedicated a substanital portion of his career to the study of taranas, he showed that the tarana words and phrases were Perso-Arabic expressions, whose meanings could be explained as follows [1] :</div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br />
<i>Tanan Dar Aa</i> - Enter my body.<br />
<i>O Dani</i> - He knows<br />
<i>Tu Dani</i> - You know.<br />
<i>Na Dir Dani</i> - You are the Complete Wisdom.<br />
<i>Tom</i> - I am yours, I belong to you.<br />
<i>Yala, Yalale </i>- Short forms of Ya Allah</div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"><br />
<span class="soundcite" data-end="550502" data-id="204283516" data-plays="1" data-start="0">In the following live recording of the <b>Tarana in Raag Darbari</b>, at the 1 min 30 seconds mark, Ustad Amir Khan</span> delves into the subject [2]:</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/204283516&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true" width="100%"></iframe><div style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Interstate, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Garuda, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 100; line-break: anywhere; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-break: normal;"><a href="https://soundcloud.com/qaul-blog" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="QAUL BLOG">QAUL BLOG</a> · <a href="https://soundcloud.com/qaul-blog/ustad-amir-khan-explains-tarana" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Ustad Amir Khan Explains Tarana">Ustad Amir Khan Explains Tarana</a></div>
<br />
Other music experts have also tackled the issue in their own way, but most have done so along the same lines as Ustad Amir Khan. For instance, we have the following lexicon [3]:<br />
<br />
<i>Dar </i>– Bheetar, Aandar (inside)<br />
<i>Dara </i>– Andar Aa (get in or come inside)<br />
<i>Dartan </i>– Tanke Aandar (inside the body)<br />
<i>Tanandara </i>– Tanke Aandar Aa (Come inside the body)<br />
<i>Tom </i>– Main Tum Hun (I am you)<br />
<i>Nadirdani </i>– Tu Sabse Adhik Janata Hai (You know more than anyone else)<br />
<i>Tandardani </i>– Tanke Aandarka Jannewala (One who knows what is inside the body) <br />
<br />
One may wonder how these Perso-Arabic words came to be used in the tarana. A compelling explanation has been presented by Ustad Farid Ayaz Qawwal, the leading performer from the contemporary generation of the Qawwal Bachche. He suggests that the origin of tarana can be traced back to the following Persian quatrain (رباعی) by Khurso [5]. </div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">آن روز که روح آدم آمد به بدن <br />از بیم گناه نمی شد اندر تن <br />خواند مــــلایکان به </span><span style="font-size: large;">لحن داؤد <br /><b>در تن در تن درآ درآ آمد در تن</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">When Adam's soul met his body that day</div><div style="text-align: center;">Fear of sin held it back, couldn't find its way</div><div style="text-align: center;">Angels sang with David's melody sweet</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Dartan dartan dara dara dartan</i> (a union complete)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span face="Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"" style="color: #374151; font-size: 16px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div>He adds that some of the tarana syllables were derived from the Turkish language as well. The following is a live recording of him discussing this subject [4].</div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"> <br />
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<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/204293027&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true" width="100%"></iframe><div style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Interstate, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Garuda, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 100; line-break: anywhere; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-break: normal;"><a href="https://soundcloud.com/qaul-blog" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="QAUL BLOG">QAUL BLOG</a> · <a href="https://soundcloud.com/qaul-blog/farid-ayaz-explains-tarana" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Farid Ayaz Explains Tarana">Farid Ayaz Explains Tarana</a></div><div><br /></div>
The quatrain speaks of the creation of Adam and the day his pure soul encountered the body for the first time. Fearing the sinful nature of the flesh, the spirit hesitated from entering the body. The angels intervened and employing the enchanting melodies of the prophet David began singing the following words: <i>Dar tan, dar tan, dara dara</i> (inside the body, inside the body, come inside, come inside). The entrancing melodies lured the spirit towards the body, culminating in a union.</div><div>
<br />From the above interpretations, we learn that tarana bol are actually meaningful words and phrases that convey ideas of mystical union and more. The alternative viewpoint, proposing that they are meaningless sounds, harks back to ancient times when musicians traditionally used specific sound-syllables, particularly tabla sounds, to structure and shape their songs [6]. This genre, however, did not serve as an antecedent for the tarana.</div><div><br /></div><div>Instead, what Ustad Amir Khan showed was that taranas were distinct and, on contrary, did convey meaning. According to him, the incorporation of meaningless sound-syllables in modern taranas resulted from innovations introduced by later generations of tarana singers. </div><div><br /></div><div>Through years of research and recitals, Ustad Amir Khan tried to set the record straight and take the tarana back to its pure form as originally conceived by Hazrat Ameer
Khusro [3]. </div>
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We leave you with this lovely <b>Tarana in Raag Hamsadwani</b> [7], a perfect example of the use of pure tarana bol by Ustad Amir Khan. The aptly inserted Persian couplet about union with the beloved plays on the same theme that underlies many original tarana phrases:-</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Etihaade-st miyaan e man o tu</i></div>
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<i>Man o tu neist miyaan e man o tu</i></div>
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There's a unity between you and I</div>
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(Such that) there's no "You" and "I" between you and I.</div>
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Credits:<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">[1] <i>The Tarana Style of Singing</i> by Amir Khan.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">[2] youtube.com/user/thuryina<a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCo7v_56g0R7-_lR_2BzwTHw"></a> ; <a href="https://soundcloud.com/qaul-blog/ustad-amir-khan-explains-tarana?in=qaul-blog/sets/blog_misc">link to mp3</a>.<br />[3] "Indian Music of the 78rpm era - Amir Khan". (<a href="http://courses.nus.edu.sg/course/ellpatke/Miscellany/amir%20khan.htm" target="_blank">link</a>)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">[4] <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ayUfDa2qZQA">YouTube link</a></span><span style="font-size: small;"> ; <a href="https://soundcloud.com/qaul-blog/farid-ayaz-explains-tarana?in=qaul-blog/sets/blog_misc">link to mp3</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">[5] Speech by sufi scholar and poet Syed Nasiruddin Nasir (<a href="http://www.tvideo.es/daily_-_x16in9h.html" target="_blank">link 1</a> , <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28UkwBmA_Oc">link 2</a>)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">[6] <i>A Concise Dictionary of Hindustani Music</i> by A. D. Ranade. <br />[7] youtube.com/user/Yajnaseni</span></div>
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